Fathers
by Starr Dust
Summary: This was no way for a man to meet his son. Mylar, Mpreg.
1. Fathers

**Pairing:** Sylar/Mohinder  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** This was no way for a man to meet his child.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Slash, AU, Mpreg, spoilers for season 3

They're flanked. Four large men--stone faced and silent--stand guard, carefully watching his every move from their own respective corner of the too white room. He's been with the Company for almost a year now, yet they still don't seem to trust him. Or maybe it isn't the Company that lacks faith in him. Maybe it's his surprise visitor that requested such heavy security be present during their meeting.

Sylar shifts in his seat, cringing internally as the uncomfortable folding chair creeks along with his movements. He settles in his seat, hands laid flat against the flimsy white table that separates him from Mohinder Suresh. He has to keep them there. His hands must be visible at all times. That was one of the terms he'd agreed to.

The arrangement is awkward to say the least. He can tell from Mohinder's posture and stony expression that the other man does not want to be here, yet _he_ had been the one who had arranged their sudden reunion. The two hadn't seen each other for quite some time now--not since Sylar was still trapped in the persona of Nathan Petrelli--which made Mohinder's abrupt contact all the more strange. Sylar would have thought the Indian man would be more than happy for the two of them to "lose touch." Yet there was clearly something Mohinder wanted to say to him, and from the looks of their current situation, Sylar had a feeling it had something to do with the tiny infant sitting in Mohinder's lap.

Sylar felt his jaw clench as he watched the geneticist hold the baby in his arms, tenderly supporting him to sit in an erect position as the child's stubby little fingers tried their best to grasp the man's thumb, fascinated by the shiny silver band encircling it.

"So this is why you left?" he ground out, willing his voice to sound completely even. He had been more than a little annoyed when the news that Mohinder had left America and moved back to India had come his way. He wanted to follow him, he would have gone half way across the world just to drag him back, but the Company had been less than enthusiastic about the idea. They had their claws in him tight, watching his every move, listening to his every breath, possibly even monitoring his thoughts. There was no escaping their constant presence, so he'd just waited, knowing Mohinder would eventually come back. It was destiny.

"Something like that," Mohinder shrugged. The slight movement cause the child to bounce, drawing Sylar's attention to him. The infant looked to be around five or six months old. His skin was much fairer than Sylar would have expected a child of Mohinder's to be, but it was clear just from looking at his head full of curls and dark brown eyes that the two were indeed related.

Sylar let out a long breath as he pulled his eyes away from the baby. He adjusted his weight, trying again to find a comfortable sitting position, and two of the guards began to stand a little taller. "So am I supposed to congratulate you on the newest addition to your family?"

Mohinder's expression was blank as he starred him down, his eyes never straying from Sylar's. He heard the Indian man's heart beat quicken as he tightened his grip on the baby.

"He's yours."

His words were quick and straight to the point. Sylar had to struggle not to make any sudden movements when the familiar tingle that was associated with a lie never came. A sudden shrill scrapping sound suddenly filled the otherwise silent air between them and it took Sylar a few seconds to realize that it was the sound of his fingernails digging into the table as they curled into a tight fist. He quickly relaxed his hands, pressing his palms flat against the smooth surface before the guards behind him could take a step forward.

"When did this happen?"

Mohinder smirked as the infant finally managed to grasp his father thumb and began suckling on the tip, not caring that the man would eventually need his digit back. "Oh, you remember," Mohinder said smoothly, not caring that his hand would soon be covered with drool. "Pinehearst. My lab. Two split lips and a black eye."

Sylar felt his eyes narrow. Mohinder's mutation had been... unique, but he never would have guessed that it was cause something like this to happen. "I didn't know you could-"

"Neither did I. A side effect that stuck with me."

He didn't know whether to be grateful or horrified. He had a child -- a son -- with Mohinder of all people. For some reason he started to think of his mother. She had always wanted him to get married, to give her grandchildren, but he had never planned on it. He never had any interest in having children. He wondered if Virginia would have been grateful for this turn of events or condemn his offspring?

"Why didn't you tell me?"

The look Mohinder gave him was particularly icy, but it had no real effect on Sylar. He was used to it. "When would have been a good time? When I was being hunted down by the American government or at your funeral?" Sylar suddenly wondered if his... their... the baby would remember if he reached across the table and strangled Mohinder. "I thought you were dead."

"But you obviously found out that I was alive eventually."

"That doesn't change who you are," he snapped. "I was in a delicate condition. I didn't know if I would survive the delivery, do you really think I'd actually turn to a monster like you in such a situation."

The temperature in the room began to drop as a thin layer of ice started to spread across the table top. One of the guards in front of him took a step forward as the other readied his taser.

Mohinder's grip on the baby tightened and his whole body tensed, ready to leap across the room at the drop of a hat. Sylar hated himself for slipping like that, and hated even more when he started to reassure the other men in the room that he would calm down as he reined in his abilities.

"If you hate me so much," he began tensely through clenched teeth, "why'd you keep it?"

The geneticist remained tense as his expression hardened, not liking having his child referred to as "it." "Because he's innocent," he told him, running a gentle hand over the baby's curly hair. "_You're_ the monster. He didn't ask to be born, let alone be your son."

"So why are you telling me about this now?"

"You have Peter to thank for that."

Sylar felt his eyebrow tick at the mention of the only surviving Petrelli son. Some how, he wasn't surprised that the other man had a hand in all of this. "He knew?"

Mohinder nodded and the baby squirmed in his arms, not happy that Mohinder's thumb had escaped his grasp. "He told me you were doing better. He suggested I do this as a 'reward' for your 'good behavior.'"

"But you don't think I deserve it."

The geneticist grew silent as he gazed down at the infant that had now begun to suck on his own fingers instead. He placed a gentle kiss onto the baby's ebony curls before speaking. "I don't think you deserve to know anything about him. If I had my way, you'd never have the pleasure to see the miracle that you helped to create. But I know that I can't hide him from you forever. It'd be naive of me to think so."

Sylar felt his throat go bone dry as he allowed his eyes to glance down at the infant. He didn't look like him. He was all Mohinder. If it weren't for the child's fair, sand colored skin he'd demand a blood test on the spot. "Do you love him?"

"More than anything."

It was the truth. Probably an easy one for Mohinder to admit, and Sylar hated himself for feeling jealous of an infant.

"What's his name?"

"Manu."

"Does it mean anything?"

"It means 'wise.'"

He allowed a small chuckle to escape his lips. What an appropriate name for a Suresh.

"Can I hold him?"

Mohinder's eyes widened as the color instantly drained from his face. Sylar watched with mild amusement as the geneticist looked at each one of the guards, making sure that all four men were paying close attention to them. The serial killer had to laugh at the gesture. They both knew that Mohinder could easily rip him apart with his bare hands.

"Hold out your arms," he instructed as he got up from his seat.

Sylar did as he was told watching Mohinder carefully as he maneuvered around the table until he was standing right in front of him. He was shocked when he felt himself start to sweat as Mohinder carefully placed the child in his arms. Sylar instinctively began to cradle him as he'd seen many women do with babies. His heart skipped a beat as, once Mohinder's hands were no longer touching Manu, the infant burst into a fit of tears.

"What's wrong? What did I do?"

The four guards charged towards him, inches away from grabbing him, until Mohinder waved them off. "H-he doesn't like strangers."

The words dug deep into him. A stranger. That's all he was too his own child. Sylar felt his heart tighten as Mohinder crouched down next to him, taking Manu's little hand in his and began cooing soothing words in his native tongue to the sobbing infant. He frowned, realizing then that if Mohinder had his way, the two of them wouldn't even speak the same language. His frown only deepened as he looked around at the four men still standing a few inches away from him. This was no way for a man to meet his child.

"Hold him like this," Mohinder began as he adjusted the child into a sitting position on his lap.

Manu sniffled, his cheeks still stained with tears as Mohinder continued to caress his little fingers with the pad of his thumb. The child looked up at him then, lip trembling and eyes wider than Sylar would have thought possible. It was only then that the man realized that those were his eyes, not Mohinder's, gazing back at him.

Sylar smiled down at him. He felt something, something strange inside of him, when he looked into those too familiar eyes. It was like what he felt when he looked at Mohinder, only different. It was sweeter. Stronger.

"He's beautiful," he sighed. He bent down and pressed a kiss onto Manu's cheek and was surprised by how soft the infant's skin was. "Can he speak yet?"

"No," Mohinder sighed, wiping away the tears still silently running down the child's face. Sylar could tell from the hardened look in his eyes that he did not approve of the man holding their child, let alone kissing him. "Not yet. He just babbles a bit."

"What's he going to call you?"

"Father."

Sylar smirked, rolling his eyes at the man's response. "Fine," he chuckled running a careful hand over the boy's, his son's, soft black hair. "You be father, I'll be 'Papa.' Do you like that?"

As if in response, Manu turned and looked him in the eyes before sneezing right in his face. He was definitely a Suresh.


	2. Babysitting

**Title:** Babysitting  
**Fandom:** Heroes  
**Pairing:** Sylar/Mohinder, implied Peter/Claude  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** How hard could watching one baby be?  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Slash, AU, Mpreg, spoilers for season 3

Mohinder groaned in annoyance as his phone began to vibrate and chime loudly in his pocket. Pulling out the hand held device, he wasn't the least bit surprised when the small screen revealed that he had just received another text message from Peter Petrelli. It was the fourth one in the past half hour and Mohinder had to will himself not to crush the mobile phone in the palm of his hand. Instead he merely sent another text in response, telling the other man that he was on his way to meet with him.

The geneticist shook his head wearily as he pressed the send button on his phone. He'd been back in New York for only three weeks, although it felt like much longer since he had originally planned on leaving two weeks ago, and already he found himself in the middle of a miniature crisis.

"Peter again?" Claire asked knowingly as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

Mohinder turned and smiled at her. He felt fortunate that he was able to reach the girl and have her babysit for him on such short notice. Usually, he would have just taken Manu with him, but from Peter's last few messages, it seemed that this situation would be a bit inappropriate for a baby.

"He seems to be getting more frantic by the second," he joked, shuffling through his leather messenger bag to make sure he had everything he'd need.

"Is there anything wrong?" she asked, causing Mohinder's eyes to meet her worried gaze. "It's nothing... serious. Right?"

A slight flush began to color the geneticist's cheeks. It was a personal situation, and he wasn't sure if Peter would want his niece to know about it just yet. "No," he said hesitantly. "No it's... are you sure you'll be alright with the baby?"

Claire rolled her eyes at the sudden change of subject. Mohinder felt a bit guilty for leaving her out of the loop, but until he got the okay from Peter, he didn't want to tell anyone anything that could be considered private.

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "I've babysat a dozen times before. I'm trained in infant CPR, I can change a diaper with my eyes closed, and I won't even be stepping out of the hotel room."

"Unless there's an emergency," he reminded her carefully.

"Unless there's an emergency," she repeated, weariness clear in her tone.

He flashed her an apologetic smile as he pulled his wallet out of his bag. He did feel a bit embarrassed for being so over protective, but he wasn't used to leaving Manu alone with anyone except his mother. Not to mention the fact that Sylar now knew about their child's existence. Even if Sylar was "reformed," he still wasn't comfortable having the former killer around his baby.

"I just gave him a bottle, so you won't have to worry about feeding him," he informed her as he flipped open his wallet. "He usually needs a diaper change soon after eating, so be prepared for that. His diaper bag is in the bathroom next to the sink. If he gets fussy, I have a few toys next to bed, and when you put him down for a nap, make sure to play classical music for him."

"Okay, okay! I get it!" Claire laughed, throwing her arms up wearily. "Just go! Take care of Peter. Manu and I will be just fine."

Mohinder grinned as he gave her his spare room key from his wallet. "I'll try not to be gone too long."

Walking over to Manu, who was currently suckling happily on his pacifier while he laid in his playpen, Mohinder couldn't help but feel a knot of worry form in the pit of his stomach. It just seemed wrong to leave the infant alone, especially when they were so far from home in a strange country, but he forced himself to push those feelings aside as he lifted the baby into his arms. He pressed several quick kisses onto his son's cheeks, causing the baby to giggle happily.

"I love you, Manu," he whispered to him. "Father will be back soon. Be a good boy for your babysitter." Mohinder gave the baby one more tender kiss to his nose before handing him over to Claire. The instant Mohinder laid the child in Claire's waiting arms, Manu began to tear up, kicking his legs frantically and reaching out towards him. The geneticist felt his heart tighten in his chest as he ran a tender hand over his baby's soft black curls. "I'll be back soon," he promised.

Claire flashed him a weak smile as she began rocking the child awkwardly in her arms. "We'll be fine," she assured him.

He nodded heading towards the door, unable to shake the feeling that something about the blond girl's behavior had been a bit off.

-+-+-+-

Claire Bennet had always been a bit careless when it came to her belongings. She lost things easily, either by placing them out of her sight or not taking care to put them somewhere safe. It was because of the girl's slightly forgetful nature that Sylar had easily been able to swipe her phone and intercept the call from Mohinder.

Playing the part of Claire wasn't difficult at all. He had spent a good deal of time around the former cheerleader when he was still Nathan Petrelli and knew her mannerism well enough that he could fool even her own family when he shifted into her form. Mohinder was easily tricked, but Manu would not be fooled. The moment the baby had been placed in his arms, he'd feared his cover had been blown. There must have been something about him--his smell maybe--that Manu just did not like. Fortune seemed to have been on his side, however, since Mohinder was distracted enough by Petrelli's constant messages to not bother to question his own son's tears.

Once Mohinder's foot steps were far enough away, Sylar had gently placed the still wailing infant onto the soft hotel bed and began to shift back into his own body.

Sylar groaned as the baby began to scream even louder once he picked him up again. The sound was already starting to give him a splitting headache.

"Come on Manu," he whispered, trying his best to make his tone as soothing as possible. "It's me, Papa. Don't you like Papa?"

The reformed killer suddenly wished he hadn't asked as the child began to kick at him wildly. Apparently giving him a hard time was encoded in Manu's DNA.

"Where are those damn toys?"

-+-+-+-

After pulling out every single plastic toy, stuffed animal, and shiny object he could find--as well as avoiding several worried phone calls from the hotel staff and being yelled at by angry hotel guests--Sylar finally managed to calm the child down enough so that his face wasn't bright red and twisted with tears.

Sylar breathed a sigh of relief as he cradled Manu to his chest. The child was currently fixated on the watch he had given him, trying his best to fit it into his mouth.

"So you like watches?" he asked, running his fingers through the infant's hair. His curls were so much softer and bouncier than Mohinder's, it almost seemed unreal. "I guess that's genetic too. Don't worry. I won't make you run a failing watch repair shop or wear sweater vests."

Manu gurgled in response, pulling the watch out of his mouth and handing it back to Sylar. The man smiled, trying his best to ignore the fact that his watch was now covered in spit. Yet he couldn't ignore the fact that Manu now felt very warm.

And wet.

And it seemed that he was going to have to learn how to change a diaper.

-+-+-+-

Four hours passed and Mohinder still hadn't come back. He'd called three times to check up on "Claire" and make sure that Manu was alright, but he never mentioned when he'd be coming back. Unfortunately, Manu seemed to pick each phone call as an excuse to show how unhappy he was with being stuck with Sylar instead of the pretty blond ex-cheerleader. The first time Mohinder called the infant had cried hysterically, the second time he spat up on him, and the third time he did both.

Sylar groaned as he continued to scrub furiously at the spot now staining the front of his shirt (courtesy of Manu's tantrum during Mohinder's third phone call). Four hours with the baby and he was already seconds away from pulling his hair out. He'd always known he hadn't been cut out for parenthood, but he'd wanted to try. That was the least he could do for his son, _try_. It was more than his two father figures had done for him. They hadn't tried. Both Martin and Samson Gray had abandoned him the first chance they could. He wouldn't do that to his child. Even if Mohinder didn't want him to be a part of Manu's world, he still owed it to his offspring to be a presence in his life.

But it was hard. Too damn hard. Harder than anyone had made it seem to be. His baby was only a few months old and the infant already hated him. He didn't know how to change a diaper or what to feed him (or how) or even what toys Manu played with. Even after Mohinder had spent a good twenty minutes telling him exactly what to do, he'd still managed screw up.

Hot tears began to well in his eyes as his throat tightened in anger. He clenched his teeth together as he slammed his tightly wound fist into his own face. He felt the skin swell up with blood and his flesh tear from the rough contact before healing itself automatically. Sylar repeated the motion several times until the tears went away. He would _not_ cry.

"How do you do this?" his voice trembled and he wasn't sure if he were addressing the question to Mohinder or his mother. They both made it seem so easy!

The ex-serial killer sighed, giving up on both his shirt and beating himself senseless. Instead, he turned his attention back to Manu. The child had worn himself out from his constant tears and had fallen into a peaceful sleep. A small smile crept onto Sylar's face as he watched his infant son breath peacefully, his long eyelashes fluttering in sleep over his round cheeks. He sighed, noticing that Manu had kicked off his blanket while he was sleeping and instinctively went to put it back on. His smile grew when the baby didn't flinch or whimper at his touch. He just laid there, sleeping calmly.

It was then that the former murder realized that he was going to keep trying with Manu, even if it killed him.

-+-+-+-

Mohinder came back half an hour later with Peter trailing behind him. The younger man didn't appear as frantic as his constant phone calls and text messages had made him seem. Instead he looked very calm and at peace.

Sylar had made sure to switch back to Claire before the two entered the room and stood there waiting for them, calm and smiling brightly.

"Sorry we took so long," Mohinder said once they walked through the door. He didn't look nearly as put together as Peter. The Indian man looked completely worn out, as if he hadn't slept in days. Sylar suddenly wondered if taking care of Peter was more draining than raising a baby. "How was he?"

"Just fine," he lied. "A perfect angel. But what about you? Crisis averted?"

Peter and Mohinder exchanged sidelong glances as they smiled secretively at each other. Neither one seemed to know what they should say but both were clearly happy about the situation. Sylar very much wanted to rip Peter's head open for being so chummy with Mohinder.

"Well," Peter began, his voice soft and slightly sheepish. "It... uh... wasn't really a crisis."

"Let's just say that I've started something of a trend," Mohinder laughed before heading straight to Manu's playpen.

Sylar flashed Peter a confused look, hoping the other man would say more.

Peter smiled, shrugging his shoulders and brushing his hair out of his face. "Well, I guess you'll be the first to know," he mumbled. "I'm pregnant."

Sylar felt his eyes widen at the younger man's comment. He hadn't expected that. "You're joking," he blurted out, although he already knew that it was the truth.

"No," Mohinder said from behind them, gazing down at Manu's still sleeping form. "He borrowed my power and... well. One thing lead to another..."

The words made Sylar's heartbeat quicken. He wondered if Mohinder was the father. The two always seemed to have a platonic relationship, but it had been some time since Sylar had seen the two interact and Peter knowing about Manu before him didn't exactly sit well with him either. The shape shifter willed his face to maintain Claire's normal tanned color. If something was going on between the two of them, she'd probably know about it already.

"Well, um, congratulations," he stuttered.

"Don't congratulate him just yet," Mohinder teased. "Angela might kill him before the baby can even be born."

Peter laughed nervously, running his hands through his hair to cover the blush that was slowly coloring his cheeks. "I don't think it's my mom that we should be worried about," he chuckled. "_Claude_ will probably be the one to kill me. We haven't exactly had the baby talk. Not that it either of us ever thought it would be an issue."

Sylar let out a soft laugh, relieved that his fears had been put to rest.

"I guess we should be getting out of here," Peter suggested with an awkward shrug of his shoulders. "Do you need a ride home, Claire?"

"No, I'll be alright."

"Actually, Claire," Mohinder cut in. "Can I talk to you in private for a moment?"

"No problem," Sylar shrugged casually as Peter said his goodbyes and left the two alone. "Is there something you need to talk to me about?"

Mohinder smiled warmly, reaching into his messenger bag and fishing out his wallet. "I just wanted to thank you for watching Manu for me. How much do I owe you?"

Sylar tried his best to flash him a warm Claire-like smile as he waved off the Indian man's offer. "Don't worry about paying me, Mohinder," he beamed modestly. "It wasn't a problem at all. Manu's a real great little kid."

The geneticist's smile widened as he put his wallet away, handing Sylar a few twenties anyway. "I insist. You did a wonderful job. There's just one small problem."

Taking the offered money, Sylar raised a quizzical eyebrow. He had done everything. Changed him, put him to bed, cleaned up their mess... "What's that?"

The words had barely left his mouth as Mohinder's strong hand suddenly reached out and wrapped their long fingers around his neck. He wheezed painfully as Mohinder lifted him clean off the ground before slamming him roughly against the wall. "Claire never calls me 'Mohinder,' _Sylar_."

Oops.


	3. Leaving

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Slash, AU, Mpreg, spoilers for season 3

Sylar felt his eyes narrow in annoyance when he spotted Peter and Mohinder chatting away in the middle of the airport. He couldn't believe that Mohinder had actually been planning to leave the country without telling him. It had been bad enough the first time, but they had a son. Things were different now, at least, they should have been. Yet Mohinder was still behaving as if the two had nothing to do with each other.

The reformed killer watched while the two men laughed naturally as Peter teased Mohinder about how many bags he'd packed.

"Go ahead and laugh," Mohinder chided as he fussed over Manu, who was currently strapped into his car seat and kicking his legs playfully. "In nine months, you won't find this so funny. It takes a lot to keep a baby healthy and happy."

Peter smiled reaching down to caress Manu's soft cheek with the tips of his fingers causing the infant to giggle happily. "Think I'll be able to handle it?"

"You'll do fine," Mohinder assured him.

Sylar cleared his throat as loudly as possible once he was within ear shot of the two men.

Mohinder turned and glared up at him while Peter tried his best to ignore Sylar's presence. "What are you doing here?" he snapped.

"I came to see Manu," Sylar informed him.

"How did you even know my flight was today?"

Sylar smiled as he shifted his gaze over to Peter, who squirmed and did his best to hide himself from Mohinder.

The geneticist sighed, shaking his head in disappointment as he moved towards the ex-serial killer. "I want you to leave," he told him calmly.

"How could you leave without telling me?" Sylar seethed. He could practically feel his body tighten in anger. "In the time you've been here, I've only seen you and Manu _twice_."

"Only because you snuck into my hotel room disguised as another person, I might add."

The reformed killer sneered at Mohinder's pointed comment. "I wouldn't have needed to do that if you'd just let me see him," he snapped. "You can't just come back after a year with no contact, tell me I have a son, and then take him away from me."

"I have a life I need to get back to," Mohinder reminded him. "I was only supposed to be here for a week, it's been four. My mother and Molly are waiting for us to return and I still have a job to get back to. You didn't honestly think that I was going to move back permanently, did you?"

Sylar glared at the smaller man who matched his gaze with a hardened look of his own. He wasn't foolish enough to believe that Mohinder was going to stay in the country forever just to be with him, but he had hoped that the Indian man would at least stay and talk with him about their situation. As far as Sylar was concerned, Manu had changed everything. He was a father now, and even if last week's attempt at babysitting had completely blown up in his face, he still wanted to make an effort to be with his son.

"I just want to be a part of Manu's life," he sighed. "I'm his father, I deserve to have a chance to be with him."

"No. You're not his father, _I_ am. As far as I'm concerned you're just a sperm donor, and as such, you don't get any say in this situation."

The former killer clenched his teeth together as he grasped Mohinder roughly by his upper arm and began pulling him away from Peter and the baby. The last thing he needed was to have the young Petrelli listening in on their argument.

"I know why you're really doing this," Sylar hissed, making sure to keep his voice low. "You're doing this to hurt me. You could have just as easily sent me a letter telling me all about Manu and be done with it. Instead, you flew half way around the world just to throw the fact that I have a beautiful baby in my face and then just as quickly take him away. You're a vindictive bastard."

"And you're a monster," Mohinder snapped, pulling his arm out of Sylar's vice like grasp.

"I've changed," he reminded him. "You and I both know that."

"A reformed murderer is still a _murderer_."

Sylar groaned, rubbing his temples in irritation. Mohinder always knew just how to get under his skin. "I just want to be a father."

"Sylar," Mohinder started over, his voice gentle and patient, "you don't realize that this is the best arrangement for all of us. I can give Manu a family, stability, and a normal life. You're a Company agent and a former serial killer. You can't take care of him."

Sylar rolled his eyes at Mohinder's "logic." Did the geneticist really think he could just talk him out of seeing his own flesh and blood. "I'm not asking for full custody," he pointed out. "I'm just asking to be able to see him, to be more than just a stranger in his eyes. My biological father gave me away, sold me to his own brother, when I was a toddler. A few years later, my adopted father walked out on me. Don't you think our son deserves better than _that_?"

"I think he deserves better than to be raised by the man who murdered his grandfather."

A small smirk began to spread across Sylar's features at Mohinder's comment. He should have known that it would come back to _that_ eventually. "So that's it. This is about Chandra. You won't let me be with my son, because you feel guilty that you slept with your father's killer."

"I do feel guilty for it," he admitted truthfully, "but I think it's rather obvious that I'm not the only one with 'daddy issues' here." Damn. "The only reason you want to be there for Manu is just so you can prove to yourself that you're better than your father figures were. You're just a sad little boy without a daddy, and since you can't find one, you want to become one."

Sylar was about to retort, but his words were cut off when a voice over the speaker system suddenly announced that the next flight to India would be boarding soon.

"That's my flight," Mohinder informed him evenly.

He nodded. A knot began to form in the pit of his stomach as Mohinder started to turn away from him. "Can I at least say goodbye to him?" he asked, stopping the geneticist in his tracks.

Mohinder's shoulders slumped in defeat as he gave the other man a short nod. He followed the Indian man back to where they had left Peter and the baby. Guilt was still written all over the younger man's features, but Sylar had a feeling that Mohinder had already forgiven his friend. He purposely ignored the two of them as they exchanged their goodbyes, focusing his attention instead on the infant currently strapped to the car seat. Sylar bent down to unbuckle Manu from his restraints, not caring that Mohinder was probably glaring daggers at him. He deserved to hold his son one last time.

The former murder smiled as he lifted his son into his arms and was instantly greeted by the familiar sound of choked sobs that occurred whenever he held Manu.

"That's okay," he whispered gently as the baby arched his back and squirmed wildly in his grasp, "go ahead and cry. I still think you're beautiful." He kissed the baby's hair and then his reddening cheeks, ignoring the tears that were streaming down his face. "I want you to be a good boy for your father. He's a stubborn fool, but he's still a good man. While you're gone, I'll try to be good too. If I'm good, maybe I'll get to see you again. I really want to see you again." Sylar clutched the infant's head to his chest, not caring that his shirt would soon become soaked with tears. He did his best to memorize Manu's sent, the feel of his hair, his soft skin, and the sound of his heart beat. "I love you. Papa loves you."

Another announcement suddenly played over the intercom, reminding passengers that their flight would be boarding soon. Sylar wasn't surprised to find Mohinder standing right next to him, waiting for the man to hand over his child. Reluctantly, he did just that, already missing the warm little body that had just been pressed against his heart.

"I won't be gone for good," Mohinder told him reluctantly, adjusting the squirming baby in his arms. The child was still upset, but he was starting to settle down now that he was in Mohinder's familiar arms. "Peter's baby is due in nine months. I'll be back in New York a month before it arrives."

Sylar frowned, shifting his weight awkwardly. "That's still eight months away," he reminded him sternly. "Manu will probably be able to walk and talk by then. He won't remember me at all."

Mohinder sighed wearily. "Well, if you can find some poor unfortunate soul who'd be willing to spend twenty-some-odd hours on a plane with you, you could always come visit us in India."

The ex-serial killer glanced over at Peter, who was currently turning several shades of green just from standing up too long. Sylar could tell just from looking at the sickly young man that he would not be in any shape to travel until well after he gave birth. "I'm sure I'll find someone," he smirked turning his attention back to Mohinder, who was already placing a much calmer Manu back in his seat.

"Good," Mohinder sighed once he heard the final click from Manu's straps. "But you won't be staying with me when you do. It's out of the question." The Indian man sighed, before muttering under his breath; "Molly would have a fit."

Sylar felt his smirk turn into a sly smile as he took a step closer, wrapping his arms around Mohinder's waist and pressing the smaller man closer to him. "We'll work something out," Sylar promised.

With that said, he bent down and pressed a kiss to Mohinder's resisting lips. He wasn't surprised that Mohinder didn't respond to the action, not even when he ran his tongue across his tight lips, but he was pleased to find that Mohinder still tasted the same.


	4. Memories

**Title:** Memories**  
Pairing:** Sylar/Mohinder, Peter/Claude  
**Rating:** R  
**Summary:** Mohinder remembers the past as Peter's big day arrives.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Slash, AU, Mpreg, spoilers for season 3

The phone call came at three o'clock in the morning. Mohinder jerked awake in his bed, heart pounding and head buzzing, as Manu began to whimper in displeasure at having his own sleep cycle interrupted. Mohinder kept shaking his head back and forth as he sat up in the hotel bed and reached across to his bedside table to grab the mobile device. His eyes, still blurry with sleep, were barely able to recognize the name on the display screen, but he picked it up anyway.

"Hello?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Mohinder?" the voice on the other end gasped. He could practically hear the tears in the other man's eyes as he listened to the frantic voice speak. "It's time. It's coming!"

"Peter?" he whispered dumbly as he flicked the lamp on, flooding the room with light. He slipped out of his bed, planting his feet on the ground before walking over to Manu's playpen, which had become the infant's temporary crib. "You aren't due for another three weeks."

He listened in mild panic as the younger man began chanting "Oh God! Oh God!" on the other line before his words faded away into cries of pain. Mohinder knew first hand that the birthing process was going to be very hard on the young paramedic. He didn't have a birth canal, so the baby was just struggling to find a way out, pushing down on his organs in order to break free.

The Indian man held his breath as bent down to lift the still crying baby into his arms. The phone must have changed hands, because he soon found himself being yelled at by a very angry Claude. "Suresh?" the British man all but barked into the phone as Peter continued to moan and whimper in the background. "We're heading to the hospital and you'd better be there when we check in."

"No!" Mohinder cut in quickly. "You can't take him to the the hospital! They won't know how to treat him!" Not to mention the scandal this would cause. A man having a baby wasn't exactly a normal occurrence.

"Then what the hell do you suggest we do? Have a bloody water birth?"

He sighed, rocking Manu in his arms. The child was slowly settling down, but he doubted he'd be able to get him back to sleep any time soon. "You're going to have to take him to the Company," the man sighed. Claude should know all this. Mohinder and Peter had discussed his birthing plan frequently, yet the British man seemed to be hearing all this for the first time.

"Shit, Suresh! That's a four hour drive! He won't make it."

"Some women have been documented to stay in labor for an entire day," he told him, noticing with mild irritation that Manu was now trying to pull at his hair.

"Yeah, well how long did it take for you to push your little miracle into the world?"

Mohinder fell silent, not knowing just how to answer the uncomfortable question.

-+-+-+-

_"I don't need a doctor," Mohinder argued, crossing his arms over his chest like a stubborn child. "I told you, I'm fine. I'm just feeling a bit... off."_

_They were all a bit off. No more than a few hours ago, Mohinder had been lying in an artificially induced coma with a series of tubes running in and out of his body. He squeezed his arm absentmindedly, remembering the way the IV tube that had been in him just a few hours ago had felt. It was all too clear and yet so foggy at the same time. Lying there as people stuck needles into him and did who knows what else to his body. The memory still sent a chill down his spine.  
_

_And then there was the "funeral." It was eerie to watch Sylar's body burn and know that for the first time in months he wouldn't have to worry about the serial killer. Yet they had experienced this before. Less than a year ago, after the incident in Kirby Plaza, they had all thought Sylar was dead and continued on with their lives, living in ignorance. It was that memory alone that kept Mohinder from feeling completely at ease right now._

_"For_ four months,_ Mohinder?" Matt chided, flicking his eyes towards the Indian man for a brief second before turning his attention back to the road. "No body feels 'off' for four months without needing to be checked out by a doctor."_

_Mohinder turned in his seat to look at Peter, who was was currently staring out the window silently and watching the bright lights and tall buildings that had quickly replaced the stars in the dark night sky above the beach where they had burned Sylar. "You're a nurse," he said, bringing the younger man out of his daze. "Or at least you were. Couldn't you just tell Matt that he's worrying over nothing?"_

_Peter flashed him a lopsided smile, shaking his head. "It's not that simple Mohinder," he chuckled. "You need to be checked out by a doctor and have some tests run. If what Matt says is right, and you were sick_ before_ Danko captured you, then your condition could have only gotten worse."_

_Mohinder rolled his eyes at his American friends. He knew that their hearts were in the right place, but he couldn't bring himself to see why they were so worried. He didn't need to take a trip to the hospital in the middle of the night. He needed to get ready for his flight to Indian. Or, rather, to schedule another one._

_"I'm fi-" he started to say, but was quickly cut off._

_"Don't say it!" Matt warned. "For the past four months you've been completely out of energy, having massive headaches, dizzy spells, and no appetite. Now, in your professional medical opinion, does that sound normal to you Peter?"_

_"Nope," the other man said simply, ending the argument there. They proceeded their drive towards the city in silence, as Mohinder continued to think of ways to get out of his current situation._

-+-+-+-

Mohinder frowned as he paced back and forth in the hotel bathroom. He'd managed to get himself dressed and put Manu to sleep in record time, yet he was still stuck in New York while Peter and Claude were already on their way to Washington D.C. He knew that both men would never forgive him if he were to miss the birth, but he couldn't leave Manu alone nor could he bring the child with him.

He sighed, glancing at his watch as the phone continued to ring. He had called everyone he knew in the New York area, and they were all either ignoring his calls or on their way to Washington to support Peter. He was about to give up and just bring Manu with him, when the other line finally picked up.

"Do you have any idea what fucking time it is?" a gruff voice greeted him.

The Indian man rolled his eyes, unimpressed by the attempt at intimidation. _Classy_. "Listen," he began, not caring if the other man thought he was being rude or short tempered. "I'm in a real rush. Peter's in labor and I need someone to watch the baby. I normally wouldn't ask you to do this, but I'm desperate. Could you please watch him for me?"

"Why don't you just take the kid with you?"

Mohinder felt his eyebrow tick in annoyance at the man's question. He should have expected to be given a hard time. "Because it's almost four in the morning and he needs to sleep. Could you please just come?"

There was a long pause, followed by a far too loud yawn on the other line. "Well, since you asked so nicely, I suppose I could be there in a few minutes."

The geneticist breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Sylar."

-+-+-+-

_"This doctor is a quack," Mohinder snapped irritably as he pulled his hospital gown tightly around himself. "He doesn't know what he's talking about. Honestly, if you two were going to force me to go to a hospital, the least you could have done was spent the extra money to take me to a_ decent_ one."_

_Sweat was pouring down his face and his heart was practically hammer in his chest. He suddenly didn't feel very comfortable here. Before the incident with Danko, Mohinder had never had a problem with doctors or hospitals, but now the sterile room just unnerved him. He had a horrible fear that any second now a group of large men would come in and inject him with something to put him into a deep sleep._

_Peter shrugged as he watched the door carefully for the doctor's return. He had only manged to sneak into the exam room with Mohinder because he still possessed Sylar's shape shifting ability and was able to turn himself into one of the medical staff. Peter had been there when the doctor had given his absurd diagnosis, so the geneticist was surprised that his friend wasn't enthusiastically agreeing with him._

_"I'd be more incline to agree with you Mohinder if this wasn't the hospital where I'd done my internship," he joked, trying to ease his friend's tense state, but it wasn't working._

_"Peter," he snapped, glaring at his friend. "What he said... it's not true. It can't be."_

_"But you were changed," Peter pointed out. "A few months ago you were about to mutate into some horrible... creature. What if when you got cured it was just external and any internal mutation stayed with you? It would explain why you kept your enhanced strength."_

_"But we're not talking about lifting a few heavy objects," he hissed urgently. "We're talking about sustaining a life! Pregnant, Peter! He thinks I'm pregnant!"_

_The younger man sighed, running his hands through his floppy brown hair. "After all the strange things we've seen and done and been through, a guy getting pregnant just doesn't sound that strange."_

_"But it's not some guy!" Mohinder stressed and he was ashamed to say that there were tears starting to sting his eyes. If Peter said anything about "hormones" he was going to strangle him. "It's _me _we're talking about!"_

_The geneticist would have been more than happy to continue his rant when his doctor returned followed by an ultrasound technician and a fleet of other medical professionals. He flushed as they all gathered around him, preparing him for his ultrasound. Once again, he found himself a guinea pig for someone to study and run tests on. His only silver lining was that Matt could easily come in and erase everyone's memory if necessary._

_He gasped as the ultrasound tech squirted a clear gel onto his stomach and began spreading it over his skin. The gel was freezing against his flushed skin, and he couldn't help but feel his heart thrumming in his ears as the small woman pressed the transducer probe onto his lower abdomen. It didn't take long for a black and white image to appear on the CPU's display. A collective gasp came from the group as a small, vaguely human shape emerged, flickering and moving about inside of him. He wanted to vomit when the technician flicked a switch and he was able to hear the fetus's heart beat._

_"Doctor Suresh," one of the female doctors began, pressing her fingers onto his stomach as if wondering whether what they were witnessing were real. "This is... This is unlike anything we've ever seen."_

_The room quickly filled with excited murmurs and talk of case studies, but Mohinder didn't want to hear any of it. Hot tears began to pour down his cheeks as he took in what was happening to him. His throat tightened as he gasped and shook uncontrollably. The emotions were just too much for him to hold back._

_"Doctor Suresh?" the technician began, noticing his tears and pained expression. "Are you alright?"_

_The other occupants of the room quickly feel silent as he continued to cry and take in deep, quivering breaths._

_"We didn't mean to upset you," one of the male doctors said, squeezing his shoulder apologetically_

_"Leave," he gasped. "Leave me the hell alone!"_

_The room quickly emptied as the medical staff poured into the hallway, a sheepish expression on their faces. Only one remained, the doctor who had been squeezing his shoulder. The man quickly shifted back into Peter who then wrapped his arms around Mohinder and held him as he cried his eyes out._

-+-+-+-

Mohinder gave Sylar a tight lipped smile as he stepped into his hotel room. Even after all the visits to his home in India, after all the time the former murderer had been "rehabilitated", it still felt awkward to stand in the same room as the man who had ended his father's life.

"He's sleeping now," he told Sylar quietly as he slipped his leather messenger bag on over his shoulder. "He probably won't wake up for another four hours or so, but he'll be a bit cranky."

"I know," Sylar nodded. He did know. The man knew a lot more about taking care of their son than he had eight months ago when Mohinder had first introduced the two. It was more than a bit unsettling to think of. He knew in his heart that Sylar would never hurt their baby -- if there was one thing in the world the serial killer loved, it was their child -- but that didn't stop the situation from feeling wrong. Whenever he left the two alone together, he half expected Sylar to disappear and take the baby away from him forever.

"I suppose you can just go to sleep if you wish," Mohinder shrugged, handing the other man his spare room key. "There's no sense in both of us staying up all night."

Sylar gave him a short laugh, pocketing the key card and studying his lips intensely. They'd talked about this, about them, and Mohinder had made it very clear to the other man that they would never be a couple. Yet that didn't seem to stop Sylar from longing for him, from lusting after him, and staring at him like a hungry dog at a piece of meat. One day he would just have to accept the fact that Sylar would always love him and he'd always be uncomfortable around him.

"Well, tell Peter I said... something."

Mohinder smiled, patting Sylar on the shoulder before leaving the room.

-+-+-+-

_Mohinder felt his whole body continue to shake as the three men left the hospital in silence. He hadn't stopped crying since he had seen the ultrasound. It embarrassed him to no end to have his two friends witness him falling apart like this. He hiccuped, burying his face in his hands as he shielded his eyes from the rising sun and the all too sympathetic stares Matt and Peter were giving him._

_Just as he had expected, Matt had erased everyone's memory back at the hospital. As far as the staff was concerned, Mohinder had come in with a sore throat and a stomachache._

_"Mohinder, please stop crying," Peter pleaded, rubbing his shoulders reassuringly. "You're going to make yourself sick if you keep this up."_

_"I'm surprised he isn't dehydrated yet," Matt grumbled._

_They hadn't even left the parking lot yet. They were just sitting in the parked car like a bunch of fools as they waited for the Indian man to settle down. Mohinder sobbed openly, bending over so that any passersby wouldn't be able to see him. That's all he wanted right now; to be invisible to the world. He wanted to just curl up into a ball and disappear._

_"I... I can't," he gasped, unable to push out a complete sentence. "I... I can't be a father!"_

_"What are you talking about?" Matt asked. He could hear the man twisting around in the driver's seat in order to get a better look at him and Mohinder wished he'd just go away. "What about Molly? You were a great dad to her!"_

_"That... that was different!" he sniffed. "I'm... I'm alone. I... I can't. I can't!"_

_"You're not alone," Peter assured him. He attempted to wrap his arms around Mohinder only to have the geneticist push him away. He was already acting like a child, he didn't need to be treated like one. "You have us. We'll help you Mohinder."_

_His throat tightened at Peter's words and he suddenly found it hard to breath. His eyes were starting to burn as tears continued to pour down his cheeks. "Y-you don't... u-understand! This baby... I can't take care of it. I... I don't want it."_

_The other two men fell silent at his admission. He hated himself for saying something so selfish, but it was going to come out eventually._

_"Mohinder," Matt started resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I know it's scary now, but it's going to be okay. This baby is going to change your life, but in a very good way!"_

_His heart broke at the words. He suddenly felt so cold inside, like his organs were made of the clear gel that had been spread on his stomach. No good could come out of this pregnancy. This baby was evil. It could only bring pain and sadness._

_"You don't get it!" he gasped. "The baby... it's_ Sylar's _baby!"_

_They'd just gotten rid of his evil and now he was already working his way back into their lives through this new life growing inside of him. It was too much. Too much to handle. He could barely look at himself in the mirror knowing that he'd slept with his father's killer, how was he supposed to live with himself when he was carrying the man's child? From the silence that fell upon the small car, Mohinder knew that his friends were thinking the same thing. He must have looked like trash in their eyes. He'd never felt so ashamed._

_"So what?"_

_Mohinder sniffed, raising his head to meet Peter's intense gaze. "What?"_

_"So what?" the youngest Petrelli repeated. "Who cares if Sylar's the father, it's not _his _baby, it's_ yours, _Mohinder. This baby will be whatever you want it to be. It's a reflection of the love and care you put into raising it. Sylar's gone now, Mohinder. You're free. Your baby is free. Sylar won't be a part of your lives anymore."_

-+-+-+-

Angela's cold stare was the first thing that greeted him when he walked into the Company lobby. He squared his shoulders and swallowed the nervous feeling that was welling up inside of him as the older woman approached him.

"You're late," she clipped. "Peter arrived here almost an hour ago and since you were the one who put him in this situation, the least you could have done was showed up when the time came."

Mohinder frowned. "First off, I am not the father of Peter's child, Claude is," he pointed out, much to Angela's irritation. Everyone knew that the woman did not approve of her son's relationship with Claude. Peter was the only child she had left, so it was only natural for her to want the best for him, and dating a man who had spent seven years living on the street and talking to pigeons didn't quite fit that description. "Second, I have my own child to take care of, so excuse me for taking the time to find a sitter for him before I came rushing over here to wait by Peter's bedside."

The Indian man turned and walked towards the elevators, knowing that Angela would be following close behind him. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard echo of her high heels clicking on the tiled floor.

"What floor is he on?" he asked as he pressed the elevator call button.

"He's on the fifth," she told him. The two quickly fell into an uncomfortable silence as they waited for the elevator to arrive.

-+-+-+-

_Mohinder smiled as he looked at the caller id on his phone and saw that Peter was trying to reach him. The younger man had caught him on a very good day. He had finished grading his students' test papers earlier than he'd expected, Molly's grades were steadily improving, and his mother hadn't pressured him to find a wife in over a week. Things were really starting to look up for him for the first time in a while._

_"Hello Peter," the Indian man greeted cheerfully. He smiled, flipping through the small stack of letters that had been resting on his counter top. Molly was still at school and he had the house to himself for another hour. "Have you already bought the plane ticket for your trip next month?"_

_Before he had left New York, Peter had promised to come to India to visit him before the baby was born, and much to Mohinder's surprise, his friend hadn't forgotten. For the past month it was all Peter could talk about, calling him every other day to make arrangements. Then two weeks ago his American friend had stopped calling, and Mohinder had feared that he had forgotten all about their plans. It was a great relief to hear from him now._

_"Mohinder," Peter began hesitantly. His voice sounded strange, thick, as if he had been up all night crying. "I have something to tell you. You'd better sit down."_

_The geneticist frowned as he sat down at his dinning table. His heart beat quickened as the baby started to squirm around inside of him, sensing his tension. "What is it?" he asked, rubbing his massive stomach in soothing circles. "What happened?"_

_"It's Nathan," Peter told him. "He's... he's dead."_

_Mohinder gasped, clutching his stomach protectively. He had never been particularly close to the elder Petrelli brother, but he knew that he had been an important presence in Peter's life. Nathan was his idol, his hero, the one person Peter could always turn to when things looked their worst. He couldn't imagine what his friend must be going through now that he was gone._

_"Peter," he whispered gently. "I'm so sorry. When did he die?"_

_"Four months ago."_

_The Indian man felt his insides tighten at his friend's words. Four months? That was impossible. Nathan had called him just last month to offer him a job at the newly rebuilt Company. He had declined naturally, telling the man that he had no desire to return to America after all that had happened to him. Of course, he hadn't told him anything about his pregnancy. The only ones who knew were his family, Peter, and Matt (who had practically disappeared since the night he had found out about his baby)._

_"Four months?" Mohinder repeated incredulously. "But he spoke to me last month."_

_The young paramedic took in a few quivering breaths before he began to explain that Nathan had been killed by Sylar four months ago and that the man who had been acting as Nathan Petrelli all this time had really been the serial killer in disguise. Sylar had never been killed. The body they had burned had belonged to an evolved human who had shifted into Sylar before the murderer had killed him and stole his ability._

_Silence spread over the two men as Mohinder processed this new information. His heart began beating so loudly that it was all he could hear. He wheezed as his throat clenched while horrible thoughts began to fill his head. Nathan was dead. Sylar was alive. If Sylar were to find out about the baby..._

_His baby. The baby began to push against his palm as tears filled his eyes. It wasn't supposed to be this way. He was supposed to raise this baby without fear, without having to constantly look over his shoulder and wonder when the serial killer would come after them._

_He didn't even realize he was crying until he heard Peter's worried voice calling his name from the other ended of the line._

_"He's supposed to be dead," Mohinder sobbed, balling his free hand into a tight fist and slamming it against the table. The wooden table cracked in half, crumpling into a pile of splinters on the floor. "He's supposed to be dead dammit! I'm supposed to be free."_

-+-+-+-

The geneticist bit his lip as he entered Peter's room. Claude was holding the young man's wrist in his hand tenderly as he stroked back Peter's damp brown hair. Peter's skin was flushed red and drenched with sweat as he continued to take in deep labored breaths. It was hard to think that it had only been a year since he had been in the same situation. He couldn't help but smile when he noticed that Claude was being careful to stay out of Peter's grasp. Peter had his abilities, which meant that his strength was greater than that of an average human. If the young man were to reach over and grab his hand, he just might snap the British man's fingers like twigs.

"Hey," Mohinder greeted softly, not wanting to disturb the "tender scene" in front of him.

Claude turned and glared at him, releasing Peter's arm from his grasp. "'Bout time you got here," he snapped. "Ya know, the least you could have done was get here on time seeing how this whole bloody mess is _your_ fault!"

Mohinder frowned, rolling his eyes in annoyance at the British man. He was sick of everyone blaming him for Peter's pregnancy. "I'm not the one who got Peter pregnant," he reminded him.

"Well, you are the one who put this baby business in his head," the Brit pointed out.

The Indian man scowled, pressing his lips into a thin line. "Well I'm sorry I got pregnant," he sneered. "I'm sure Peter never would have thought about having children until he saw me have one first!"

"You two realize that I can hear you, right?"

Mohinder felt a slight blush color his cheeks at his friend's comment. Swallowing his embarrassment, he walked over to the other man's bedside and knelt down next to him. "I'm sorry, Peter," he whispered grasping his friend's hand tenderly. He didn't have to worry about Peter crushing his hand since they both should have been evenly matched in strength. "How are you feeling?"

"Better now that I've gotten my epidural," he joked. He smiled weakly as he caressed the massive bulge that was his stomach. Even after eight months of pregnancy, it was still hard to picture his once slim friend with a large, swollen stomach.

"How far apart are your contractions?"

"'Bout eight minutes," Claude answered for him.

Mohinder frowned, wondering why his friend hadn't been taken into the operating room yet.

-+-+-+-

_Nirand had driven Mohinder to the hospital after he'd collapsed in the middle of his lecture. The pain had been excruciating, like nothing he'd ever felt in his life. He had thought that his mutation had been horrible, when every breath he took had felt like fire shooting through his body and every movement felt like his skin was going to rip apart. Being in labor had put that sensation to shame. His stomach felt like it was ready to burst as the baby pushed down on his organs, trying to break free._

_He let out a strangled cry as he was hit by another stomach crushing contraction. The geneticist twisted in his hospital bed, gripping the sheets so tightly that they began to shred like sheets of paper in his hands._

_He was fortunate in a way. An old friend of his father's, a man who he had gone through college with, had been a surgeon. They had arranged for the man to operate on Mohinder and he had promised that he would keep quiet about what would transpire there that day. Of course, the operating room was still being prepped and he hadn't been given his epidural yet. This day felt as if it would never end._

_"Breath, Mohinder, breath," he mother instructed, dabbing a wet towel against his burning skin._

_He was in more pain than what was usual and he knew it. Even his mother had commented that labor had never been this hard on her, and she had given birth _twice_. Something was wrong with the baby, he could feel it, and all he wanted right now was for the child to be taken out of him so that they could make sure it was alright._

_"His contractions are ten minutes apart," Peter muttered, studying his watch with troubled eyes. "I'm going to go find a nurse."_

_The young man hurried out of the room, but Mohinder barely registered his departure. Everything was such a blur. He could barely keep his focus on anything except the pain that was hitting him in short bursts._

_He felt more than saw as Molly approached him, staring at him with worried green eyes as she placed a tender hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be okay, Mohinder," she assured him. "Everything's going to be fine."_

_The Indian man smiled warmly at her. It hadn't been that long ago when their positions were reversed, when Molly had been the one in the hospital bed and Mohinder had held her hand tenderly in his and whispered soothing words into her ears. So much had changed in such a short time._

_"I know Molly," he smiled weakly. He really wanted to be strong for her, but the pain was just too much to handle. "I know. Everything will be alright, and in a few hours, you'll have a new little brother or sister."_

_"Hopefully a sister," the little girl teased. They had had this conversation before and Mohinder knew that Molly was hoping that the baby would be a girl. After all, she already had a "little brother" in the form of Matt Parkman, Jr._

_"We'll see."_

-+-+-+-

She was born in late winter, but Peter had decided to name his new daughter "June" after the month in which she had been conceived. Mohinder thought that it was odd, but he said nothing. It wasn't his child after all.

"She's so beautiful!" Claire cooed as she rubbed the newborn's soft pink cheeks with the tips of her fingers.

Peter was barely awake, but he held onto the infant with such intensity that Mohinder had a feeling it'd taken an army just to remove the child from her father's arms. The paramedic was quite the sight. His hair was a mess -- sticking out from all sides and drenched in sweat -- and his cheeks were as red as tomatoes from all the screaming he had been doing just a few hours ago. Yet he had a peaceful glow about him as he gazed down lovingly at his daughter.

"She is," he beamed, rocking June slowly in his arms. "She's perfect."

Claude laughed as he ran his rough fingers over the baby's rich brown hair. "She looks just like her 'mama'," he joked before kissing Peter on the cheek.

"Very funny," the younger man laughed. "But we already agreed that I'll be 'Daddy' and you'll be 'Angry Old Dad.'"

The crowded hospital room filled with laughter at Peter's words. Claude rapped the worn out young man softly on the head, a good natured smirk lighting his features. Peter's crocked smile widened as he turned towards Mohinder and the geneticist suddenly felt very awkward and exposed.

"Mohinder, would you like to hold her?"

The Indian man felt a slight flush spread over his features at the question. Angela and Claude glared at him as Claire flashed him a polite, although somewhat jealous, smile. He knew that the other three occupants of the hospital room wanted to have the honor of holding Peter's baby first and he didn't want to take that away from them (let alone have a fight break out because of him).

"That's alright, Peter," he began politely, but the younger man quickly cut him off.

"But you're her Godfather," Peter stressed, his brown eyes widening in a way that pulled at Mohinder's heart. "Besides, she wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

"Now, why is it that when _I_ say it, it's insulting," Claude snapped, "but when you say it, it's okay?"

"Because, unlike you, when Peter says it, he's not _trying_ to be insulting," Claire teased.

"Well I didn't exactly do any of the work," Mohinder began sheepishly, although he was already moving closer towards the bed, "but if you insist."

Mohinder stiffened as Peter placed the little pink bundle in his arms. It had been a long time since he had to hold something this delicate and small. He smiled down at the little girl, already the perfect replica of Peter Petrelli. June was smaller than Manu had been when he was born and she had a lot less hair, but she had come into the world with a lot less heartache and tears than his son had, and for that Mohinder felt jealous.

Claude began to grumble something under his breath, pulling Mohinder's attention away from studying the baby in his arms.

"Don't worry, Claude," Peter sighed, patting the man's hand in a mocking manner. "You can be the first one to hold the _next_ baby."

Claire laughed as Angela's eyes narrowed and Claude stiffened in fear. "Next baby?" the British man repeated. "You just gave birth and you're already planning on having another?"

"We're going to have a very big family," Peter teased, liking how uncomfortable his partner had gotten.

"It's the drugs talking," Angela muttered sharply, although Mohinder could see the slight twinkle in her eyes at the prospect of having more grandchildren.

-+-+-+-

_"Oh, Mohinder! He's great!" Molly beamed as she gazed down in wonder at the infant sleeping peacefully in Mohinder's arms._

_His head was buzzing and his eyes felt like they would slip shut any second now, but he couldn't pull his gaze away from his newborn baby boy. A son. He had a son. He couldn't remember ever feeling so happy and complete in his entire life._

_"I'm so proud of you, Mohinder," his mother gushed as she pressed a tender kiss to his sweat covered hair._

_"Thank you, Mother," he whispered. He couldn't quite find the volume of his voice just yet. Everything was coming out as a choked whisper and he had a feeling it was because he was scared of waking the baby._

_"What are you going to call him?" Peter asked._

_"I'm going to call him Manu," he told him. "Manu Suresh." As soon as he spoke the name the baby's lips curled into a smile and he felt his heart melt. Although, he knew in the back of his mind that Manu was too young to smile and it was most likely just a result of gas bubbling inside his little stomach, but to Mohinder's tired eyes it was his very first smile._

_"We should be going," his mother announced suddenly. "You have a full day of school tomorrow, Molly."_

_Molly pouted at her adopted grandmother. "Couldn't we just stay a little bit longer?"_

_"No, Mohinder needs his rest," she told her. Mohinder recognized that tone all too well. He knew his mother would not tolerate another word in protest from the brown haired girl._

_They exchanged goodbyes and Mohinder kissed both of them tenderly on the cheek before they left the hospital room. Only Peter remained now. He had pulled up a chair beside him and was currently staring at the baby, wonder glowing in his brown eyes._

_"I don't know how you did it," Peter whispered. "I mean, I've seen women give birth before... I've delivered a few babies myself, but... I don't think I'd ever be able to handle the pain."_

_The pain. It was already becoming nothing more than a distant memory in the back of his mind. He remembered screaming and crying and smashing Nirand's car radio, but he couldn't remember why. Gazing into his son's sleeping face seemed to erase all of those bad feelings from his mind._

_"Do you want to hold him?" Mohinder asked suddenly._

_Peter stiffened nervously, clearly caught off guard by his friend's question. "Me?" he asked dumbly. "I don't... I don't think so."_

_Mohinder smirked at him. The man had saved the world, stopped a terrorist from replacing the President of the United States, traveled through time, and gotten into more fights than a professional wrestler. Yet holding a sleeping newborn unnerved him. "Don't worry, it's not hard," Mohinder teased. "Besides, he wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."_

_The words were meant to be comforting, but Mohinder couldn't help but hate himself when he thought about how true they were. That night, when he had sat crying in the back of Matt's rental car, he had been considering terminating his pregnancy. At that time, he was convinced that no child of Sylar's deserved to walk the Earth. Yet it was Peter's words that changed his mind. Peter telling him that this child was his, not the murderer's. Peter reminding him that the baby would be whatever he wanted it to be. Peter had stopped Mohinder from making a terrible mistake that night._

_"Well, I didn't really do any of the work," he joked, "but if you insist."_

_Mohinder smiled as he carefully laid his son in Peter's nervous arms. The younger man trembled awkwardly as he carefully adjusted the sleeping infant into a more comfortable position. Silence fell upon the two as Peter held the baby in his arms, rocking him gently and cooing sweet words to the newborn._

_At that moment, Mohinder couldn't help but think that if his father hadn't been murdered by Sylar, Manu may never have been born. The thought frightened and disturbed him, especially when he considered that, even after only a few short hours, he already loved his child more than his father._

_"I spoke to my mother, yesterday," Peter whispered. A knot of dread began to form in the pit of Mohinder's stomach. He knew where this conversation was going. "She talked to me about Sylar."_

_"Please," Mohinder cut in quickly. "Don't mention that name in front of my baby."_

_Peter frowned. "He's been asking for you," he continued. "He... He wants to see you."_

_"Well I don't want to see him."_

_The paramedic sighed as he handed the infant back to Mohinder. "She said he's doing better."_

_"She also said that he was dead no more than five months ago," he reminded him. "I don't care what Sylar's doing. I don't care if he's working with the Red Cross or planting trees across America. He's a murderer and he's not getting anywhere near my baby. I'm free from him now."_

-+-+-+-

Mohinder yawned as he stepped off of the elevator and onto his floor. It had been an exceptionally long day and there was nothing he wanted more than to just crawl into bed and go to sleep. Unfortunately, he had to deal with a bit of unpleasantness first.

The geneticist sighed as he slid his key card into the slot on his door. When the light changed to green, he turned the knob and stepped inside. There was Sylar, sitting on the foot of his bed with Manu on his knee, tickling the baby's stomach playfully. He hated this. He hated seeing Sylar being so tender with their son. Monsters weren't supposed to be tender or playful. They were supposed to be vicious and unforgiving. The geneticist cringed slightly when Manu's giggles greeted his ears. He missed the days when Manu cried whenever Sylar was around.

He closed the door behind him, causing Sylar to look up at him and smile. He truly hated that smile.

"There's Daddy," Sylar whispered as Manu slid from his lap and took a few wobbly steps towards him.

Mohinder bent down and gave his son a tired smile as he lifted the baby into his arms. Manu giggled as he pressed a quick kiss to his son's soft black curls. He whispered tender words in Tamil to his little boy, happy that Sylar was unable to understand his native tongue. It was the one thing he had that was purely between him and Manu.

"So, what was it?" Sylar asked, although Mohinder knew that he didn't care.

"A girl," he told him.

Sylar nodded indifferently as he studied the dark bags under Mohinder's eyes. "You look beat," he said. "Do you want me to take the baby for a few hours so you can get some sleep?"

"No," Mohinder sighed, although in truth, the idea was tempting. He just didn't want Manu and Sylar to spend any more time together. Yet the man just didn't seem to get the hint that he wanted him to leave. He continued to stand far too close to him, running his pale fingers through Manu's hair.

"I changed him and fed him his dinner a little while ago," Sylar told him casually.

"Good. Thank you."

He waited for Sylar to leave, to turn around or at least say goodbye, but he didn't. Instead he said something that Mohinder wasn't expecting; "Do you ever think about having more children?"

Mohinder felt his jaw drop and his eyes widen as he stared at Sylar as if he had never seen him before (or as if he had just asked him if he wanted to get pregnant again). "Wait... What?" he blurted out. "Are you saying _you_ want to have another baby?"

Sylar shrugged casually. There was something off putting about the other man's attitude. He was acting as if he had just asked the most normal question in the world and couldn't understand why Mohinder was overreacting.

"When did this happen?"

"Probably somewhere between you telling me that I was a father and Petrelli getting pregnant," he told him. "Why? Don't you want anymore kids?"

The Indian man felt his mouth go dry as he sat down at the foot of his bed, cradling Manu in his arms. He had never considered having children until he'd met Molly, and even then he had thought that the little girl would be the only one. And then Manu came along and he had been more than content to stop there. Now Sylar was asking him to carry _another_ child?

"I... I never considered it."

"Neither did I," the reformed killer smiled, a strange twinkle in his eye. "Not until I met my son and saw how beautiful he was. I still believe that I'm the next step in evolution, Mohinder, and a natural part of evolution is reproduction. Even if your reproductive capabilities are synthetic, I still see this as a sign, as a part of our destiny. Not only were we meant to be together, we were meant to spawn and create genetically superior offspring."

The geneticist felt a twinge in the back of his eyes as he listened to the insane man speak. He knew that telling Sylar about their child would have disastrous results, but he didn't think that the man would actually want to turn him into a literal baby factory.

"As incredibly romantic as your rambling was," Mohinder began, "I'm not really interested in having children with a crazy person."

The other man's smile only widened as he knelt down in front of him, grasping Manu's tiny brown hand between his large white fingers. "But don't you want to give our baby a brother or sister to play with?"

"He has Molly," Mohinder snapped.

"She's not really his sister though," he pointed out. "Having a full blooded sibling would be very beneficial."

Mohinder sighed, rolling his eyes at the serial killer. "And just how many more children do you expect me to carry? Pregnancy was very hard on me, both emotionally and physically. It's not something I planned on doing for the rest of my life!"

His words seemed to have no effect on Sylar as the man kissed Manu's little fingers gently. "Can you honestly look into those pretty brown eyes and say you don't want to make at least _one more_ little angel?"

The Indian man felt his stomach tighten as he looked down at his son's curly black head. The one year old looked up at him, gazing at him with his wide, sparkling brown eyes. His heart clenched as the boy sucked on his thumb sweetly and wrinkled his nose at him in the way that made Mohinder want to babble and coo like an idiot.

"I'll consider it."

_**~The End~**_


	5. When the Baby Came

**Title:** When the Baby Came  
**Pairing:** implied Sylar/Mohinder  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Molly reflects on Mohinder's son  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Mpreg, AU, implied Slash, Angst

When Mohinder told Molly that he was pregnant, she didn't believe him. She may have been a child, but she was not stupid. She knew it took a man and a woman to make a baby and that only a _woman_ could get pregnant. Yet Mohinder had never lied to her before and there was no hint of humor in the Indian man's eyes.

She asked him how that was possible, and a look of shame quickly settled on her guardian's face.

"Something happened to me," he explained, his eyes no longer meeting her gaze. "My body... changed. It's difficult to explain."

"Who's the father?" she asked and the way Mohinder flinched did not escape her gaze. She knew her answer without him saying anything.

"I am," he told her firmly. "I'm going to be the mother and the father." He sighed, everything from his posture to his deep brown eyes looked tired and frail as he scooted closer to her and wrapped her in his strong arms. "Things are going to change," he warned. "_I'm_ going to change. My body... I'm going to get bigger, I'll have less energy, and when the baby comes we'll have to make some more adjustments." Mohinder paused, squeezing her tightly against his frame and placing a tender kiss on top of her hair. "But I promise I will _never_ stop loving you."

A sickening feeling formed in the pit of her stomach as she fought back against the tears that longed to spring into her eyes and her world seemed to spin and crumble all at once. Yet she pushed those feelings aside and decided right then and there to be strong for the man who had done so much for her. She wrapped her small arms around him and told him she was happy. She told him she hoped his baby was a girl and that she was excited to be a big sister.

The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.

-+-+-+-

When Mohinder slept, his dreams were filled with nightmares. The first few weeks that he had spent with them, Molly wished that he would leave.

They stayed with his mother, because Mohinder knew he would not be able to take care of Molly and himself in his condition. She'd spent the months since he had sent her to live in India sleeping in Mohinder's childhood room. She had decorated the walls with crayon colored pictures and maps with pins stuck in it to represent all the people she loved. (When Mohinder came home she moved his red pin to Chennai with her pink pin and Mrs. Suresh's yellow, and she moved Matt's blue pin to California.) The months she'd spent in India had been happy. She went to school, she made friends, and she felt safe for the first time since she'd met the boogeyman. It was as if she had finally escaped all the nightmares.

Yet Mohinder was not so lucky. His room was one door over from hers, and late at night she would hear him; screaming and crying and begging for his invisible attackers to go away. The first night it happened, Mrs. Suresh had gone into his room in an attempt to sooth her son and she'd walked away with a series of bruises running down her arms and a broken wrist. They had learned then to leave Mohinder alone when the nightmares came for him.

After a while, Mohinder gave up on sleep. He stayed up all night doing research, editing papers, listening to the radio, and doing anything he could to keep himself awake.

Molly had thought she'd escaped the nightmares, but Mohinder's baby had brought them all back.

-+-+-+-

When Mohinder began to gain weight, he fell apart. His mother would tell him to eat, worrying that her growing grandchild did not have enough nourishment, and his baby would constantly beg for food, disrupting his normal schedule with sudden cravings and hunger pains, but the geneticist's pride would not allow him to get fat.

Yet he pushed his pride aside and ate for his child. He ate and ate and after a month, a small swell started to appear where there had once been nothing but smooth stomach. He was still too small for Mrs. Suresh's liking. His mother would constantly bring out pregnancy books and old pictures of herself to show Mohinder how his stomach was _supposed_ to look, but every pound gained tore the man up inside.

Molly remembered going to visit Mohinder at his university. She remembered hearing the other professors laugh and mock him for getting fat on American cuisine. Mohinder was an honest man and he longed to tell them the truth, but the truth was too complicated, so he kept silent and let the humiliation eat away at him.

That night, Mrs. Suresh had fed Mohinder two servings of curry and three bowls of rice. He ate his meal quickly and quietly and left the table without a sound. Later, when he thought they were all asleep, Mohinder smashed the oven with his bare hands.

-+-+-+-

When they found out Sylar was still alive, Mohinder was not himself. The Indian man's already loose grasp on sanity was slipping even further. He spent his days walking around in a fog and his nights screaming himself hoarse. Things would go missing and turn up broken the next day. Some days Mohinder would march into Molly's room and scream at her for leaving her things down stairs and then he would cry and apologize for being so short tempered.

When things got really bad, Mrs. Suresh took Mohinder aside and suggested that he go see someone. He never did, but the destructive behavior quickly came to an end.

Most nights Molly would lie awake and think about Matt. She'd reach out to him with her ability and take a peek at his current life. She always saw him with his wife and son. He was happy.

She cried.

-+-+-+-

When Peter Petrelli came to visit, Mohinder tried to be himself. He spoke more openly, he smiled wider, but he was still miserable. At night, Peter would stay up with Mohinder and ask him questions about the baby. When was he due? Had the baby dropped yet? Was he getting enough to eat? He discussed pills that Mohinder should take; pills that would help him sleep through the night but would not harm the baby. Mohinder would always refuse, but Peter kept bringing it up night after night.

The paramedic was a calming presence on the house. Everyone started treating Mohinder's condition like a blessing instead of a burden, pretending that the geneticist had not spent the past four months in a crazed and irrational state of mind. Yet Molly still felt ill every time the subject of the baby came up.

When Peter turned to her and asked if she was excited about becoming a big sister, the girl smiled and said yes, then went to her room and stayed quiet.

-+-+-+-

When labor came, there were tears and screams. Mohinder had cried and moaned and curled himself into a tight ball with every contraction.

Molly was frightened, horrified by the sight of her hero whimpering and falling apart as the child he had carried for nine long suffering months pressed down painfully on his insides in an attempt to rip him apart. As she sat in the hospital room watching as tears ran down Mohinder s reddened cheeks, she felt certain that her guardian might die, but she tried her best not to voice those concerns. She just did her best to comfort him and Mohinder seemed to appreciate that.

When the nurse came to prepare Mohinder for surgery, they were all kicked out of his room. As the door slipped closed, Molly saw Mohinder grip the nurse's arms in his trembling hands and gaze into her eyes, his dark brown orbs brimming with tears and filled with panic.

"Please," he begged. "Please, whatever happens, save the baby."

-+-+-+-

When the baby came, Mohinder was in love. After the delivery, all the Indian man wanted to do was gaze down at his son, his eyes glowing with pride and a wide smile painted on his features. He looked tired and weak and beautiful at all the same time.

She remembered seeing the baby for the first time. He looked small, but he was a little more than seven pounds and everyone said that that was a good weight. His eyes were scrunched closed and his skin was a strange blend of light brown and soft pink. He suckled his fist and gurgled as he curled towards Mohinder's warmth.

Mrs. Suresh cried.

Mohinder cried. "Isn't he beautiful?" he sobbed. "He's so beautiful!"

"He's great!" Molly had agreed enthusiastically, but inside she felt nothing for the newborn resting in the geneticist's arms. She looked at the baby and only saw Sylar.

-+-+-+-

When the baby came home, the house was filled with noise. The phone rang off the hook, twenty four hours a day, with people calling to congratulate Mohinder.

Matt had called for the first time in months. Mohinder had yelled at him, asked why he hadn't spoke to them for so long, but the police officer must have given Mohinder a good excuse, because the subject had quickly shifted before Molly could even think of something to say.

After a while, Mohinder had handed the phone over to her and she heard Matt's voice for the first time in five months.

"Molly?" he asked, and for a second she was surprised he remembered her name. "How are you, kiddo?"

"Good," she said. She felt awkward and strangely rushed. She didn't want to stay on the phone long. She could imagine baby Matty crying somewhere in the background asking for his daddy and a ball of guilt formed in the pit of her stomach.

"Are you excited about the new baby?"

The ball quickly turned into a bolder and Molly desperately wanted to ask Matt if she could come live with him in LA. Instead, she lied and said that she loved the new baby. When they hung up, Molly wrote down Matt's number, telling herself that she would work up the courage to ask him later.

-+-+-+-

When Mohinder's grandparents came to see the baby Mrs. Suresh and her son were a nervous wreck. They cleaned the house from top to bottom. They printed out as many pictures that could be taken in less than two weeks (which was a surprising amount to say the least). They spent hours cooking an elaborate meal to welcome the relatives. Mohinder bought Molly a new dress and Mrs. Suresh did her hair into braids, tying off the ends with matching ribbons. The American girl suddenly felt very out of place in the house she had spent the past few months calling home.

That was when Mohinder told her the story he was going to tell his grandparents. He planned to tell them that she was his step-daughter. That he had met a woman in America, fell in love, and got married. That woman would be Molly's mother. He was going to tell them that the woman got pregnant with his child, but died in labor, leaving Mohinder with two children to raise on his own. He told her first because he wanted to get her approval. Molly smiled and told him that it was alright, but in truth it made her sick inside. She didn t want to lie, especially not about her mother. She wished that Mohinder could tell his grandparents the truth, but the truth was too complicated. She supposed that sometimes, lying was just easier.

Although they were angry and disappointed, his grandparents believed his story. The old people didn't give much thought to Molly. They pat her cheek and welcome her to the family, but the baby was the only thing on their minds.

The elderly couple studied the baby carefully, turning him this way and that, checking every inch of him to see if he was healthy. Mohinder's grandmother asked for his name, and Mohinder proudly told her he was going to call him Manu. His grandfather smiled his approval and claimed that the child was a reincarnation of Mohinder's father. The small group agreed, saying over and over that Manu was Chandra's spirit come back to them in the next life.

Molly silently disagreed.

-+-+-+-

When Mohinder found a new apartment, they all move out of Mrs. Suresh's home. The Indian woman was displeased. She asked for Mohinder to stay with her, she had grown fond of Molly and wanted to stay with her grandson, but Mohinder was as stubborn as ever. He had never been happy that he had to live with his mother; he thought it was not something a man in his thirties should do.

Molly's new bedroom was smaller than the last one she had, but she had moved so much in the past year that she does not complain. Somehow the girl knew that she will eventually have to leave again.

She put up her pictures and her maps and tried her best not to think about how Mohinder had placed Manu's room across the hall from hers. At night she hears the baby crying and Mohinder softly singing him back to sleep. She would often lie awake and remember how Mohinder once sang to her. She missed the way he held her in his arms and told her he'd protect her from boogeymen.

He still hugs her. He still kisses her. He still tells her every day that he loves her. Yet it's the baby that takes up most of his time now. It's the baby that helps Mohinder sleep again. It's the baby that chases all of Mohinder's nightmares away.

Sometimes at night, the little girl dreams that the baby has an ability. She dreams the baby sucks away all of Mohinder's nightmares and sends them to Molly. Those nights, she wakes up in a sweat with tears in her eyes.

-+-+-+-

When Mohinder asked if Molly wanted to hold the baby, she avoided him. She does her best to make up reasons not to come in contact with the baby. When she comes home from school in the afternoon, she would kick off her shoes and race to her room. When they eat dinner, she does her best to pay attention only to her plate, not the way Mohinder babbles and coos at the baby. When Mohinder tells her to kiss her "baby brother" goodnight, she does so coldly, robotically, and hating the way the baby's soft cheek feels against her lips.

After a few months, Mohinder asked her to start calling him "Father." He wants the baby to know to call him that when he gets older and he wants his child to hear the word as often as possible.

It's only then that Molly broke down and cried.

"I'm sorry Molly," Mohinder said sincerely, holding the frail girl in his arms. "I didn't want to upset you. You don't have to call me 'Father' if you don't want to."

"I do! I do!" she sobbed, burring her face in the Indian man's chest. "I love you Mohinder. I _do _want you to be my father."

"Then why-"

"Because you're asking me for _him_!"

She could practically feel the way Mohinder frowned thoughtfully as understanding finally dawned on him. "Molly," he began gently, stroking her back with his slender hand, "are you jealous of the baby?"

"He scares me!" she told him truthfully. "He's just like him. He's the boogeyman! He's Sylar!"

"He is _not_ Sylar," he told her, his voice a bit too firm. Molly knew then that she had offended Mohinder. The last thing her guardian wanted to hear was that his child had anything in common with the man who had murdered his father. "What makes you think he is?"

Molly bowed her head as twin rivers began running down her red cheeks. "I know," she told him shamefully. "I've always known."

Mohinder sighed as he pulled the girl back, holding her shoulders in a firm yet tender grasp. "Why didn't you say anything?" Molly sniffled, but remained quiet. How was she supposed to say something like that to her parent? "I should have told you," he muttered, whipping her tears with the pad of his thumb. "It's true. Sylar _is_ Manu's father, but he's not his family. _We're_ the ones who are going to raise him and love him. Our love is what matters; it's what will make him a good person. Do you understand Molly?"

The American girl nodded, but the sick feeling in her stomach did not disappear.

-+-+-+-

When the baby learned to crawl, Molly learned to walk away. When Mohinder wasn't paying attention, she would often leave whatever room Manu is in. When the baby reached out for her, she would always feel cold inside, imagining that he is reaching for her soul.

Even after everything Mohinder had said, Molly still could not bring herself to look at the infant with anything but a suspicious eye, especially since she heard that Mohinder had taken the baby to New York to meet Sylar. If anything, it merely confirmed her theory that the baby brought nightmares upon them. It was only a matter of time before Sylar came to India to see his son, until he took the baby and his sanity away from Mohinder, until he finally came and ripped apart the peaceful world Molly had become accustom to.

Yet the baby was nothing if not persistent. When she left the room, the baby followed. When she turned him around, he turned back towards her. When she frowned and stuck her tongue out at him, he crinkled his deep brown eyes and smiled at her.

"I hate you," she told him one day. "Why won't you just leave me alone?"

The baby gazed up at her then, his wide brown eyes filled with question as he stretched out his chubby arms and reached for her. "Mowi?"

The word hit her like a shot to the heart. Her green eyes widened as she studied the baby curiously. "Whuh?"

"Mowi?"

It dawn on her then, hit her like a ton of bricks; the baby was saying her name. She smiled, scooping the infant in her arms and carrying him towards Mohinder's study. "He said my name! He said my name!" Molly cheered, forgetting for a second how heavy Manu was as Mohinder turned to look at her.

"His first word?" he asked, studying the two carefully.

"Say it again, Manu," she cooed, bouncing the infant happily.

"Mowi," he chanted, his lips spreading into a wide smile.

Mohinder beamed proudly, gathering the children into his arms and kissing them each tenderly on the nose. It was then that Molly realized that what Mohinder had said was true, Manu was not Sylar's son. If the baby could love, then he was nothing like the boogeyman.

He was her baby brother.


	6. Christmas

**Title:** Christmas  
**Pairing:** Sylar/Mohinder, implied Peter/Claude  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** The holidays can be stressful when your family is so complicated  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Mpreg, AU, Slash, Humor

Sylar scowled, using his telekinesis to open the flaps on the cardboard box revealing the tangled mess of synthetic green limbs and twist ties. He was starting to have second thoughts about getting an artificial tree. "So what am I supposed to get him?" Sylar asked into the phone cradled between his cheek and his shoulder. His frown deepened as he reached inside the box, pulling out the instructions. "What do toddlers like?"

"I can't believe you're actually asking me that," Mohinder's irritated voice grumbled from the other end of the line. "You've been begging me to let him spend Christmas with you since _July_ and you don't have a bloody present yet?"

"I've got time," Sylar grumbled, pulling out what looked like the base of the tree.

"You've got _one week_," Mohinder reminded him tensely. "Have you ever been shopping a _week_ before Christmas? Those toy stores are a mad house!"

"Then I won't go to a toy store," he shot back, fingering the itchy material used to simulate pine needles and wondering if it would ruin his carpet.

"What are you going to get him? A laptop from The Sharper Image? He's _two years old_! Buy him a fucking toy!" There was a pause on the other end of the line as Mohinder listened to someone whisper something to him. "I know what I said!" he shot back, obviously not talking to Sylar anymore.

"Well, what do you suggest?" he asked, bringing Mohinder back to the topic at hand.

"Sylar, I honestly don't care," the Indian snapped, another voice asking him something in the background, yet this time Mohinder did not respond. "I have itwo/i children to get packed and ready for a _very_ long flight. I have bags to pack, packages to ship, papers to grade, and too many people asking me too many questions! Just get him something appropriate for his age."

The ex-serial killer sighed, rubbing at his slowly throbbing temples. That wasn't exactly the answer he had been fishing for. This was going to be the first Christmas he got to spend with his child and he just wanted everything to be perfect. He wanted Manu's gift to be perfect and special, just like the little boy was, yet Mohinder was (as usual) doing everything in his power to make things harder than they should be.

"Well, are _you_ at least coming?" he asked, holding his breath as he waited for the answer.

"Yes," Mohinder sighed reluctantly. "After I put Molly on a plane to Los Angeles, Manu and I will head over to your apartment."

"Well, why don't I just pick you up?" he put in, his voice a bit too eager. His heart was beating like a drum at the idea of having both Manu _and_ Mohinder with him on Christmas.

"You don't even have a car," the geneticist reminded him.

"I'll take Peter's."

"Don't take Peter's car. What if he needs it?"

"Then he can take a cab like the rest of us peasants."

Sylar could practically _hear_ Mohinder rolling his eyes at his comment. Ever since Peter had become a father, Mohinder had become so protective of the younger man. It was always "stop using Peter's computer to print pictures" or "don't steal Peter's car" or too frequently "stop calling me in India with Peter's phone."

"Just... if you do _borrow_ it, ask him first," Mohinder chided. "Make sure he doesn't have any doctor's appointments or anything like that he'll need to go to."

"Yes Mohinder," Sylar mumbled mockingly.

There was a crash on the other line followed by raised voices. Sylar knew right away that it wasn't anything too serious because Mohinder wasn't screaming himself hoarse. "I have to go," Mohinder groaned before hanging up with an audible thud.

The reformed killer sighed as he put the phone away and looked at the half assembled tree and the two packages of twisted Christmas lights. He didn't think he was going to be able to do all this by himself.

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"So what are you supposed to get a two year old?" Sylar grumbled, flipping through the toy catalogue with a critical eye.

Peter shrugged his shoulders as he untangled the lights with ease. "I dunno," Peter mumbled. "Get him a stuffed animal."

Sylar rolled his eyes at the young man's suggestion. "That's so ordinary," he scoff. "Manu's special. He needs a special present."

"Kids like stuffed animals," Peter said, his eyes turning towards the infant currently strapped into her pink and white car seat, holding a pink stuffed poodle with a purple ribbon tied around its neck. Sylar had a feeling that the doll had most likely been Claude's idea. "Isn't that right, Joon-Joon?" Peter cooed. "Tell Uncle Gabriel how much you love your doggie?"

The former serial killer cringed at Peter's sickeningly sweet tone. He hated when the man spoke baby talk around him. He rarely ever heard Mohinder using baby talk with Manu. "Please don't call me that," he muttered, flipping the page so quickly the paper almost tore under his finger tips. His nose wrinkled as he looked at the catalogue's top item: a pair of oversized, fuzzy red gloves with a cartoon character's face etched on. "Thanks for helping with the tree," he mumbled, knowing that Peter was expecting to hear it sooner or later. "And bringing the extra decorations."

"It's no problem," the paramedic smiled, wrapping the first set of lights around the base of the tree. "I had too many anyway. Claude kept threatening to throw them all away."

"Just don't go overboard on my apartment," he warned him. "Mohinder already thinks I'm mentally unstable. I don't want him walking in here and seeing Santa's workshop."

The young man chuckled softly at his words. "Why don't you get Manu something educational?" Peter suggested, unrolling the next set of lights. "Like a book."

Sylar pinned the paramedic with a sour look at his words. "A book?"

"Okay, not a book," he chuckled awkwardly. "How about a play set?"

The serial killer sighed, thinking over the idea. His eyes scrolled across the page before landing on a toy shopping cart that came with little plastic groceries. That had to be the saddest thing he'd ever seen. "What are you getting your brat?"

"_I'm_ not getting her anything," Peter began, his words exaggerated and careful. "_Santa's_ going to bring Joon-Joon her presents."

"Stop," Sylar grumbled. He was starting to get a migraine.

Sylar couldn't remember ever believing in Santa Claus as a child. He didn't even really recall having a tree. He only remembered waking up early on Christmas morning and braving the falling snow and biting cold to attend Mass. If he got any presents, they were usually from relatives and they were usually socks.

It was then that June started whimpering and Peter practically smashed the lights to get to his child's side. Peter hummed and cooed as he pulled the infant out of her car seat and pulled her into his arms. "Shh, don't cry," he whispered, checking to see if she was wet, but feeling nothing.

Sylar had a feeling that the baby just wanted attention. He had always felt that June was spoiled. Whenever he saw her, she always had some new toy in her arms or a new outfit on, and Peter was always kissing her and whispering how much he loved her. It was sickening.

The serial killer was looking between a toy puppy that boasted it could help teach babies to identify body parts and one that claimed it could learn a child's name when he started to hear Peter singing.

"Baby mine, don't cry," Peter sang. "Baby mine, dry your eyes. Rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine."

"Are you singing the lullaby from _Dumbo_?"

Peter chuckled as June began to suck on her thumb peacefully. "I can't believe your recognized that song."

Sylar sighed, shaking his head wearily as Peter continued to sing and rock the infant in his arms. Mohinder didn't crooned Disney songs to Manu. He usually sung him something in his native tongue or by the Beatles. Sylar's fondest memory was when he had walked in on Mohinder singing "Golden Slumbers" to a sleeping Manu. The song had almost brought tears to his eyes.

"Can I borrow your car on Thursday?"

Peter frowned, raising a curious eyebrow at the man. "You're actually _asking_? Usually you just take it."

"Mohinder wanted me to ask," he confessed. "I want to pick him and Manu up at the airport."

"Well, why don't June and I come with you?"

"No."

"Why not? It's been so long since she's seen Manu-"

"No!"

Sylar knew Peter having a baby was going to mean trouble for him, he just hadn't realized that Mohinder and Peter would form some secret plan to get their children married. The two men seemed intent on having Manu and June spending as much time together as possible. Mohinder had said that he just wanted the children to be "friends," but Sylar could read between the lines. It would be a cold day in hell before he saw his offspring married to a Petrelli.

"Fine, take the car," Peter sighed, rolling his eyes at Sylar's tone. "But you have to bring them to my apartment for Christmas dinner. I'll make cookies and everything. And, anyway, I'll have to give Manu his present."

Sylar's eyes tripled in size at Peter's announcement. "_You_ bought Manu a present?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "And I got something for Mohinder too."

"_Shit!_" June started to cry as Peter pinned Sylar with a horrified look.

"Sylar! Language!"

"I didn't think about getting _Mohinder_ anything!"

"It's the _Holidays_, Sylar! Why would you _not_ give him a present?"

"Because he doesn't _celebrate_ Christmas!" he groaned, resting his head in his hands. "This is going to be so expensive."

"Sylar, you make gold with your hands."

"That doesn't mean I like spending money!"

-+-+-+-

Sylar cringed as Mohinder slammed the car's trunk shut. Usually the serial killer wouldn't care about damaging another person's car -- especially if said vehicle belonged to Peter Petrelli -- but since he knew that Mohinder was only warming up on the car, he couldn't help feeling a bit nervous. "Was your flight really that bad?"

Mohinder grumbled something under his breath as he placed the last of his bags in the backseat of the car.

The serial killer decided then that it would be best not to say anything else to Mohinder. He chose to instead lavish all his attention on the toddler who was practically falling asleep in his arms. "Are you okay, Angel?" he asked, running a gentle hand over Manu's soft black curls.

"Sweepy," Manu whined, resting his head on Sylar's shoulder.

"He should be sleepy," Mohinder grumbled, setting up Manu's car seat. "He spent half the flight either crying until his face was blue or throwing up."

"He's a sensitive boy," Sylar said defensively, continuing to stroke the child's hair as if he were petting a frightened animal. He didn't want to believe that his child was anything short of perfect.

Mohinder was silent as he gently took their son from Sylar's arms before carefully placing him in his car seat. The serial killer went over to the driver's seat, sliding in and starting the car. He waited until Mohinder was ready before pulling out of the parking lot and driving towards his Queens apartment.

He frowned, glancing over at the geneticist who was curled up miserably in his seat and chewing on his finger nails. "So you're not going to talk to me?"

"I don't want to talk. Period," Mohinder snapped. "I just want to go to sleep."

Sylar scowled, setting his jaw tightly and gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles were practically white. He should have expected that Mohinder's attitude would get in the way of them having a pleasant Christmas.

-+-+-+-

"Tree!" Manu announced proudly as he toddled over to the plastic Christmas tree, pulling at one of the snow flake ornaments Peter had placed on one of the lower branches.

"That's right, Angel," Sylar smiled, gently guiding the child's hand away from the decorations. At least someone was appreciating the effort he had put into making things look nice.

After falling asleep on the drive back to his apartment, Mohinder had grumpily dragged the luggage upstairs before locking himself in Sylar's room and passing out again. As much as he enjoyed the idea of Mohinder's unconscious body sprawled out across his mattress, the reformed murderer couldn't help feeling bitter at the other man's lack of effort. As usual, Sylar was the only one trying to maintain a normal, healthy family environment while Mohinder sulked and complained.

"Papa?" Manu began, tugging at Sylar's pale hand and pulling him out of his bitter thoughts. "I'm hungwe."

Sylar blanched, suddenly realizing that he didn't have anything that a two year old would actually want to eat in his kitchen. "Um, well," he began, running a hand through his hair.

It was then that Mohinder decided to reappear, his eyes blurry, his curls tangled, and his clothes completely rumpled from sleep. As if sensing his American father's hesitance, Manu left Sylar's side and walked over to Mohinder, wrapping his arms around the Indian's leg. "Fahdur," he began, "I'm hungwe."

Mohinder seemed to sober right up at his child's words. "Well then let's get you something to eat," Mohinder cooed, scooping the toddler up in his arms.

"I don't have-"

"Of course you don't," Mohinder cut in knowingly. "I brought some snacks for him with me." Sylar glared at the other man's back as Mohinder carried the toddler over to a diaper bag and pulled out a pouch of snack food. "Since you still have Peter's car, you might as well go shopping, although going to a grocery store on Christmas Eve would be nothing short of a nightmare." He paused, giving Sylar a critical look. "You did _ask_ to borrow it, right?"

"Yes," he grumbled bitterly. "And in return we have to have dinner at his place tomorrow night."

"That'll be nice," Mohinder commented, ignoring the other man's sour tone. "The children haven't seen each other in quite a while."

The ex-killer rolled his eyes at Mohinder's comment. He still couldn't understand why the Indian was so fixed on having their progeny associate with children who were far inferior to him.

"Did you actually decorate in here?" the Indian asked, his jetlagged eyes finally taking notice of the sea of festive ornaments and twinkling lights that Peter had bathed his living room in.

"Yeah."

"Well it certainly makes your apartment look..."

"Warm? Inviting? Festive?"

"Creepy," he finished, picking up a too friendly snowman figure that Peter had placed on one of his bookshelves with a distasteful scowl.

Sylar sighed, rolling his eyes at the other man's sour look. He should have known better than to let Peter do anything. If this was the young man's idea of going "easy," he hated to see what would have happened if Peter had gone all out.

Manu looked between his two parents before reaching his hand into his bag and pulling out a fist full of cereal and offering it to Sylar. The ex-murderer smiled, allowing the child to pour his snack food into his cupped hand. "Manu likes it."

-+-+-+-

Sylar smiled as he watched the geneticist from his place in the kitchen. The ex-serial killer felt his insides warm as he listened to Mohinder's melodic voice sing a gentle tune to the toddler. The song was in Mohinder's native language, so Sylar could not grasp the words, but the cadence of the Indian's voice was enough to make the reformed murderer fall for him all over again.

He put the last dish away as gently as he could, mindful not to make too much noise. His smile widened as he watched Mohinder bend down and place a gentle kiss to the toddler's round cheek, a clear indication that the child was now fast asleep. Mohinder lingered at Manu's side a bit longer, running a gentle hand over the boy's stomach, before getting up and approaching the American's side.

"Did you get my packages?" Mohinder whispered.

"Yeah. They're in my closet."

Mohinder nodded, as Sylar lead him towards the Christmas presents that the Indian had shipped to him. The geneticist was silent as he pulled out the packages one by one, inspecting the wrapping paper carefully to see if it had been ripped.

"You know, you don't have to sleep on the pull out couch with Manu," Sylar said suddenly, breaking the silence of the room.

Mohinder turned and pinned him with a distasteful look before turning back to his task. "I'm fine."

Sylar frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew that now was not the best time to talk about it, but he also knew that, with Mohinder, there would never be a good time. "So are we never going to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Mohinder asked casually, not even bothering to look at him.

"About us having another baby."

The scientist froze, taking in Sylar's words, but not responding.

"You said you'd think about it," Sylar reminded him, "but then you never got back to me. Is that my answer?"

"Yes," Mohinder said flatly. "That is your answer, because frankly, Sylar, I can't handle having another baby. I have my hands full enough with the two children I have now!"

"Then let _me_ have it."

The Indian frowned, turning to give the reformed killer a startled look. "_You_?"

"I'm a shape shifter, remember?" he told him pointedly. "I can change my body so that I'd be able to carry a child."

"No."

Now it was Sylar's turn to frown. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean just that. No." Mohinder sighed, reaching behind Sylar to close the bedroom door before looking him straight in the eyes. Even in the dim light, the serial killer could see the weariness shining in Mohinder's deep brown eyes. "I'm not the type of person that can just impregnate someone and leave. If I have a child, then I have to be an active part in their life."

"That's what _I've_ been saying since you told me I was a father!" Sylar snapped.

"I know, but it's different."

"How?"

"Because I'd be going into this iconscious/i of what was happening, fully aware of the fact that we were creating a life. _That_ makes things different. If I had known then that there was a potential that I'd get pregnant when I slept with you, I'd-"

"What?" he cut in, taking a step closer to the smaller man. "Let me have some say in his life? Let me be a part of this?"

"I would never have slept with you," Mohinder finished, completely unwavering.

Sylar blanched, the words hitting him like a punch to the heart. "That's probably the worst thing you've ever said to me."

"Well, it's the truth," Mohinder said. "And if I'd lied, you'd know it."

"So you'd erase our son?" he asked, allowing the disgust to seep into his words. "You'd stop yourself from having him? How could you say something like that!"

The geneticist tensed, balling his hands into tight fists and for a moment Sylar felt certain that the smaller man was going to take a swing at him. Instead, he turned away, walking over towards the bed and sitting down slowly. "I love my son," Mohinder said firmly. "He's the best thing that's ever happened to me and my life... my life is so much richer for having him." He paused, wiping at his eyes and turning his face away from Sylar's. "But you don't know... you don't know what I went through having him. What my _family_ went through... I felt so sick inside, so dirty. When I found out I was pregnant I wanted to get rid of him."

Sylar felt his heart clench and rip itself in two as he watched silent tears burn their way down Mohinder's dark cheeks. He knew that every word the man had said was true and it only made him feel worse. "Mohinder."

"This is so hard," the geneticist choked, his voice thick with emotions. "I wonder sometimes if I made a mistake. One day... one day he's going to ask us... and we're going to have to tell him. And oh gods what if he's like us? What if he's special? What happens then?"

The ex-serial killer stayed silent as he walked over to the bed, sitting down beside the other man. He suddenly felt like he was seeing Mohinder for the first time. "It's okay," he whispered, wrapping a supportive arm around Mohinder's shoulders as the geneticist continued to sob, trembling in Sylar's arms. "Nothing's going to happen to him."

"You don't know that!" Mohinder sobbed. "He's so different. Growing up is going to be hard on him."

Sylar nodded, remembering the awkwardness of adolescence and how cruel the other children had been to him when he was younger. The very thought that Manu could have it worse made him sick inside. They could make fun of him for anything; for having two fathers, for his appearance, for his background... Sylar hadn't thought of any of those things. He only ever thought of how much he loved his child.

He suddenly wanted to say something, to tell Mohinder how sorry he was, how selfish he had been, but he couldn't find the words. Instead, he just sat there, quietly rubbing Mohinder's arms for support.

Mohinder turned towards him then -- Sylar half expected it was to tell him to stop -- and their lips brushed together. At first, the former serial killer thought it was an accident, that they were just sitting too close and Mohinder hadn't meant to touch him, but then the next thing he knew, Mohinder was grabbing his pale face and kissing him full on the lips. The reformed killer stiffened, taken aback by the sudden gesture, his mind reeling with the familiar sensation even as Mohinder pulled back.

"You... you kissed me," he found himself saying.

"Please," Mohinder whispered, caressing his pale cheeks with the pad of his thumb, "don't wake the baby."

-+-+-+-

Sylar awoke at two in the morning to see Mohinder getting dressed. The reformed serial killer pretended to be asleep as he watched the Indian man stealthily gather the packages that they had left forgotten on the floor and go to place them underneath the Christmas tree. After a while, Mohinder came back to close the bedroom door, leaving Sylar to spend the rest of the night alone.

-+-+-+-

When Sylar awoke again, it was eight in the morning and Manu had somehow found his way into his bedroom. The American scowled playfully as he felt tiny hands tapping his pale cheek in an attempt to gain his attention.

"It's Cwismis," the child told him.

"It's early," he shot back.

"Don't be a Grinch," he heard Mohinder call from somewhere outside his door. "Manu wants to open his presents, so get out of bed."

Sylar groaned, curling deeper into his sheets, only to have the child start to crawl on top of him. "Up up, Papa."

The ex-serial killer frowned up at the toddler, only to have Manu bend over and plant sloppy kisses on his nose. Even he couldn't resist such a display. "Alright, alright," he grumbled, trying his best to sound annoyed even as the corners of his lips twitched with the urge to smile. "I'm up." Manu beamed, wrapping his arms around his American parent's neck. "You want me to carry you too?" he teased as he cradled the toddler in his arms. "Lazy bones."

"Mewy Cwismis," Manu replied, pressing another kiss to his cheek.

Mohinder appeared in his door then, looking more awake and composed than he had any right to be at such an early hour and holding a camera in his hand. "Let's make a deal," he began. "You take the pictures and clean up the wrapping paper and I'll make breakfast."

"Sounds fair," Sylar shrugged, slipping out of bed and balancing Manu on his hip. "Just promise not to drug my food."

Mohinder gave the other man a slight smile as he handed him the dark red digital camera. "I don't poison people on Christmas."

Ten presents and a mountain of wrapping paper later, Sylar was starting to think he got the raw end of the deal. Given that he had no personal experience with the typical Christmas morning festivities, the reformed killer hadn't realized just how messy the aftermath of unwrapping presents could be. The once beautifully packaged gifts were now no more than a pile of paper, ribbons, and ripped plastic. Yet watching the toddler's face light up with each and every present made the task almost seem worth it.

"Please tell me that was the last one," Sylar grumbled, watching as Mohinder pulled a squirming Manu onto his lap. "My finger is getting tired from taking all these pictures."

"You know well enough that there are still more," the Indian pointed out. "Manu still hasn't opened your present."

Sylar sighed, reaching underneath the Christmas tree to retrieve the medium sized box wrapped in shiny black wrapping paper with a white snow flake pattern.

"Only _you_ could find black wrapping paper."

He shrugged. "Hey, it's Christmassy."

Mohinder rolled his eyes at the other man's comment, but let the subject be as Manu clumsily began to tear at the thin paper. The geneticist helped the child along, using his slim fingers to peel back the carefully taped edges. The Indian's eyes widened, when the boy managed to get enough of the wrapping paper off to reveal the brightly colored picture on the box. "You got him a toy laptop?"

Sylar smirked, taking a picture of Mohinder's startled face, one he knew that the scientist would most likely delete the first chance he got, as Manu beamed at the box. "Well he is a Suresh," he joked. "This is just a place holder until he gets a real one."

The other man chuckled softly, but said nothing.

"Thank you, Papa," Manu said, playing with the wrapping paper curiously.

"You're welcome, Angel," Sylar whispered, kissing the toddler's chubby cheeks.

Mohinder sighed, running his fingers through his curls. "Well, I suppose that's the end of it."

"Not quite," Sylar began, reaching under the tree and pulling out two more boxes. "These are for you. Well, one is the other... well... just... here."

The Indian frowned slightly in confusion, putting Manu aside as he took the two boxes in his hand, studying them both carefully. "Which one should I open first?"

"This one," he said, pointing to the slightly smaller box. "That one's for you."

Mohinder nodded, peeling back the paper with skilled, yet slightly tired, fingers. He smirked slightly as he opened the package and pulled out a black and silver wrist watch. "A watch?"

Sylar smiled taking the timepiece from Mohinder's hand. "Yours is always running a few seconds slow," he told him, as he gently grabbed the other man's hand, slightly surprised that Mohinder wasn't pulling away. His smile widened as he slipped the watch around Mohinder's wrist. "This one will run on time."

"As long as I wind it, right?"

"I could always wind it for you," Sylar said, brushing a stray curl out of Mohinder's face.

The geneticist stiffened and his eyes widened as understanding quickly hit him. "Sylar," he began. "Last night... it didn't mean anything."

Sylar frowned at Mohinder's words. He should have seen this coming. "Its funny how things that mean the world to me mean so little to you."

"Sylar," he sighed, running a tired hand through his hair, "I have two children and a very demanding job. It's been a while since I've..."

"It's been a while for me too," Sylar shot back, although he had to admit that he was startled to hear that Mohinder had been celibate for so long.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, lowering his voice so that Manu would not overhear them (not that the child would understand what was being said anyway). "But this cannot happen again. _We_ can't happen again."

"Why not?" he whispered back. "There's obviously still some chemistry between us."

"Sexual chemistry, yes," the Indian agreed reluctantly, "but just because we're good in bed doesn't form the grounds for a deep relationship."

"Mohinder you know how I feel," he sighed. "I love you. And I love our baby."

"I know, but things are more complicated than that. I have my family's feelings to consider. Molly's still terrified of you. It took her months to get past the fact that Manu was your son before she finally started to accept him. And my mother... my mother knows exactly who you are and what you've done. It s bad enough that I bring Manu half way around the world just to see you. What would she think if I started dating the man who murdered her husband?"

Sylar sighed. Mohinder always did put the feelings of others before his own, yet the ex-serial killer didn't dare ask Mohinder just how he felt. He knew the answer would only tear him apart inside. "Here," Sylar began, picking up the last gift and pressing it into Mohinder's hands. "Open this."

The geneticist remained silent as he tore away at the wrapping paper to reveal a book with a worn leather cover and golden letters embroider into it. "A Bible?"

"It was my mother's," Sylar explained. "I wanted to give it to Manu. I don't know how many holidays we'll be able to spend together, but I wanted him learning about my religion from the same book my mother taught me from. I thought... maybe you could hold onto it until he's a bit older."

Sylar half expected Mohinder to make a comment about how his mother's teachings had fallen on deaf ears, but the Indian said nothing. He merely held the book tightly in his hands, staring at it as if he expected it to disappear. "I'll keep it safe for him," Mohinder promised. "I didn't get you anything."

The reformed killer smiled as he leaned in and pressed their lips together in a quick kiss. "I got my present last night."

Mohinder chuckled softly at his words. "Merry Christmas, Sylar."

"Merry Christmas, Mohinder."


	7. Step Mother

**Title:** Step Mother  
**Pairing:** Sylar/Mohinder, Mohinder/Mira  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** During a trip to India, Sylar discovers that there may be a new addition to Mohinder's family.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Implied Mpreg, AU, implied Slash, Angst

Sylar didn't normally knock. Usually he would just walk right in, whether he was invited or not, but there were rules now and he was in the middle of violating one of the biggest ones: no unexpected visits. He hoped that Mohinder would make an exception -- after all, this was a very special occasion -- and surely the fact that he had taken the trouble to knock and wait for someone to open the door counted for _something_.

He gave the door another quick rap, irritated that it hadn't been answered the first time, before continuing to wait. After a while he heard the bolt ease out of the lock and the knob twist. The door swung open to reveal a young girl of about twelve. Her face went from cheerful politeness, to stunned horror as if in this exact moment all her nightmares were coming true. Chances were that that was the exact case.

Sylar hadn't seen Molly in years -- Mohinder had always made sure to keep the two apart whenever Sylar flew to India to see their son -- and the ex-serial killer could definitely see that she had changed a great deal. She was several inches taller, but her hair seemed to be shorter and pulled back instead of framing her face. She was caught somewhere in one of the awkward stages of puberty -- all long limbs and knobby knees -- and the way her gaze quickly shifter from terror to defiant irritation, Sylar could tell that she was already developing the typical teenage attitude.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest. An attempt at intimidation. Cute. "You know the rules. You're _not_ supposed to come here unless Mohinder says it's okay."

"I know, brat," Sylar said calmly, "but it's my son's birthday and I wanted to come, so tell Mohinder I'm here."

"One sec," Molly said with sarcastic politeness before slamming the door in his face.

Sylar heard the bolt slide back into place and knew right away that the brat wasn't going to tell Mohinder anything. He waited for a few minutes to pass before reaching out with his telekinesis to undo the solid metal barring him from entry. He'd tried, he'd knocked, he'd asked to come in, but now he was just going to have to do things his way.

He eased the door open and stepped inside. Mohinder's current home was... nice. It was much larger than his Brooklyn apartment and definitely brighter, but it lacked the familiar touch, the memories that seemed to ooze out of every square inch and for that -- in spite of all its modern furnishings and cheerful pictures -- it felt empty.

The serial killer was instantly hit by the sound of soft music wafting towards him from the other room and two voices -- two _adult_ voices -- muttering quietly to each other. He knew Mohinder wasn't expecting him, yet the knowledge that the man was entertaining someone still managed to offend him. He stepped lightly, turning a corner and walking into the living room. In there, he saw Mohinder sitting on a couch with some woman. Their backs were turned towards him, but as Mohinder slowly turned his head to face his companion, Sylar could see that the geneticist had a broad smile playing across his dark features. The serial killer felt his stomach tighten, twist, as the woman leaned over and said something that made Mohinder burst into jubilant laughter.

The sight was repugnant to say the least. Standing by and staring at Mohinder, watching him longue comfortably with some home wrecking _whore_ made his insides feel as if they had been set on fire. He cleared his throat (much louder than was necessary), gaining their attention and causing the two to jerk away from each other.

Mohinder twisted in his seat. His eyes widened and his jaw fell open when he met Sylar's gaze. "Whuh... what are you doing here?" Mohinder stammered, too shocked to even bother to stand.

The woman sitting next to him frowned, her gaze darting back and forth between the two men. Sylar could see now that she was rather pretty -- thick, wavy black hair, smoldering brown eyes, clear caramel skin -- if you went for that sort of thing.

"It's Manu's birthday," he said simply, pointedly ignoring the woman. "I came to visit."

The Indian man frowned, his eyes blazing and his jaw tightening in a way that told Sylar he had just made a big mistake. Yet he managed to smooth away the anger and shift his features into a mask of calmness as he turned towards the confused woman beside him. "Mira, would you excuse us for a moment?"

His words only caused the woman's -- _Mira's _-- confusion to increase. "What's going on?" she asked quietly, clutching his arm worriedly. "Who is he?"

"Just a moment," Mohinder answered instead, giving her a peck on the cheek before gently detangling her hand from him.

Sylar suddenly felt as if his stomach was holding nothing but smoke and ash as Mohinder marched toward him, a furious gleam in his eyes. The Indian quickly grasped Sylar's shoulder, spinning him around and ushering him back out the door. Once they were outside, Mohinder slammed the door shut behind him, glowering at Sylar as if he were a stain on a new carpet.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, or rather growled.

"I told you, I'm visiting _our_ son on his birthday," he answered tersely. "And who the hell is _she_?"

Mohinder sighed, pushing past his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. He wore his glasses more frequently now and Sylar assumed it was because slipping on a pair of glasses was much quicker than putting on contact lenses, and since the geneticist was raising two children mainly by himself, he needed all the time he could squeeze out. Yet the beard the man was sporting was new and Sylar assumed from the facial hair's trimmed appearance it was more for style as opposed to practicality.

"She's not important," the geneticist sighed and Sylar couldn't agree more. "What's important is how incredibly inappropriate this is! I told you right from the start that you were _never_ supposed to come here without my approval!"

"Manu's my son!" Sylar snapped. "I should be able to see my child whenever I want."

"That may be all well and good for you, but Manu lives with _me_ in _my house_ with _my_ adopted daughter whose parents _you_ viciously murdered!"

"But this is different," he pointed out. "It's his third birthday! This is the age when he'll start building lasting memories! I need to be here for this, to be as present in his life as possible."

Mohinder groaned, pushing his hair out of his face. "Be that as it may, you simply cannot be here. We have plans. My mother is throwing Manu a party tomorrow and my entire family is going to be there!"

"So I'll tag along," Sylar shrugged. "You can just tell everyone that I'm someone you met in America. That technically wouldn't be a lie."

The geneticist frowned, balling his hands into fists at his side. "It's not about _lying_," Mohinder seethed. "You do realize that _my_ family is _Chandra's_ family? The family of the man you _killed_? Do you really want to spend an evening making small talk with the family of one of your victims?"

The reformed killer gave another indifferent shrug and he could tell that the gesture was starting to get under Mohinder s skin. "Why not? I spend nights at Petrelli's apartment listening to him go on and on about his daughter. Did you know that he's pregnant? _Again_!"

For a moment, the Indian looked torn between outrage and confusion, but after a minute of letting his mouth snap open and closed like a fish out of water, he simply threw his arms up in defeat. "Fine, do as you please," he sighed, "but this is the absolute _last_ time this is happening and you will not say a _word_ to my mother. It's bad enough I'm letting you into her home, the last thing she needs is to deal with _you_."

"Alright," Sylar agreed. "Now where's Manu? I want to see him."

"He's sleeping," Mohinder said simply. "I put him down for a nap a little while ago."

"Well, then can I at least come inside until he wakes up?"

Mohinder didn't answer. He merely rolled his eyes and turned towards the door. When he didn't slam it in his face, Sylar decided that he would be allowed in. He followed Mohinder as he walked briskly towards the kitchen where Mira was waiting.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, a concerned look on her soft features.

"No, everything's fine," Mohinder lied, placing a hand at Mira's side. It was a small gesture, but a clear sign to Sylar that Mohinder wanted him to stay away from the woman. "We were just talking. This is... an acquaintance of mine from America."

Mira smiled as understanding quickly settled upon her. "Oh," she said slowly, turning her gaze towards Sylar. "Of course. You must be Peter."

Sylar felt his blood boil and his jaw tighten. If he didn't already hate the woman, he absolutely loathed her now.

"No dear," Mohinder corrected gently. "Peter's the one with dark brown hair and kind eyes."

"Oh," Mira laughed, seeing her error. "Then this is Matt Parkman?"

"Obviously I'm someone Mohinder has neglected to mention," Sylar cut in, his voice barely able to hide his contempt. "I'm Gabriel Gray."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Gabriel," she said pleasantly. They shook hands and Sylar longed to crush her boney fingers in his palm. "I'm Mira Shenoy, Mohinder's fiancee."

The ex-serial killer felt his heart stop for a good minute as his entire field of view was suddenly consumed by red. His body was practically humming with hate as he was overcome by too many emotions to name. To his surprise, Sylar actually found himself laughing as his dark eyes left Mira's startled gaze to settle on the guilty look on Mohinder's face. "Fiancee?" he repeated, because the word was just too startling not to be repeated. "Well, I'm... surprised. How long have you two been engaged."

Mira gave an awkward chuckled, brushing her long black hair behind her ear, flashing her engagement ring as she did so. "About three months."

The ex-killer's ears perked up at the announcement. It suddenly hit him then that he and Mohinder had slept together less than two months ago on Christmas Eve. It was an amusing and humiliating thought. He'd been used. Instead of receiving something beautiful that had been long denied for him, he'd been an unknowing participant in an affair. He felt dirty, guilty; yet knowing that Mohinder had went out of his way to sleep with him when there was someone else in his life spoke volumes. Surely the geneticist still had some sort of feelings for him then.

They were all fortunate that Manu had decided then to appear, toddling into the kitchen completely unaware of the tension filling the air. "Papa!" he cheered, bounding over to him and wrapping his chubby little arms around Sylar's leg.

The American smiled, bending down to scoop his child up in his arms. He was worth the twenty hour flight and the awkward tension. "Hello, Angel," Sylar cooed, kissing Manu's cheek. "Did you miss me?"

Manu gave an enthusiastic nod, wrapping his arms around Sylar's long neck and burying his face against his chest. The man was too distracted by the gesture to notice the confused look on Mira's face until she spoke.

"'Papa'?" she repeated, giving Mohinder a questioning gaze.

"It's a nickname," he laughed, rubbing her arm affectionately. "In America, 'Papa' is like 'Mama' here."

"What?" Sylar asked, confused himself.

"'Mama' is Tamil for 'Uncle'," Molly's voice droned from somewhere behind him. He twisted around just in time to see the girl grab an apple from the kitchen counter and then walk away. Strange.

"Mira," Mohinder began, a fond yet slightly frazzled smile gracing his lips, "could you give us a moment?"

Mira returned the smile and then left the kitchen without a sound.

Once she was gone, the geneticist turned towards him, his dark eyes filled with annoyance as he reached out to grab Manu. "Alright, you saw him. Now leave," he snapped, moving the grab the child, only to have Manu flinch away, tightening his hold on Sylar.

"No!" Manu whined, nearly crushing Sylar from the force of his grip

"Manu," Mohinder chided, his voice somewhere between gentle and frustrated. "Papa has to go. He can't stay with us."

Manu gave out another harsh "No," but this time there were tears in his eyes as he possessively gripped the fabric of Sylar's shirt and wrapped his legs around his American parent's waist. "I want Papa to stay," he sobbed, bottom lip trembling and hot tears streaking his round cheeks.

Sylar beamed. He was winning without having to put up a fight.

"Are you proud of yourself?" Mohinder snapped, not bothering to hide the venom in his voice or the blazing hate in his eyes. "You just walk in here, disrupt my life and turn my own son against me!"

"_Our_ son," he reminded, running a soothing hand down Manu's back, "and I'm not turning anyone against you. Manu wants me to stay and I promise I won't do anything... _questionable_."

"Stay for dinner?" Manu put in, his voice a sweet whisper and Sylar's smile widened.

"That's a great idea," he said.

Mohinder scowled. "No. No! You can't stay here for dinner, you can't spend the night, and you certainly can't come to the party tomorrow. I won't allow it."

"But it's Manu's birthday and he wants me here," Sylar said pointedly. "Besides, we barely get to see each other." Manu giggled as Sylar adjusted him in his arms so that he was holding the toddler in front of his face. "Can Papa sleepover?" Sylar asked, doing his best impression of a baby's voice.

He could practically hear Mohinder cringe in response. "And where do you propose you stay?" Mohinder snipped, clearly losing the will to fight.

Sylar smirked, balancing Manu on his hip. "Where does Mira sleep?"

"Not _here_," he practically growled. "You'll sleep on the couch and stay _far away_ from Molly."

Dinner was awkward to say the least. Mira kept attempting to make small talk with him while Sylar tried to make his hate as clear as possible without jumping across the table and pulling a knife on her. Molly kept her gaze trained on her plate, but periodically lifted them over to Mohinder, a look of disappointment in her eyes. Mohinder longed to be open with his hostility, but had to content himself with passive aggressive barbs and snide remarks in front of Manu and Mira.

Not surprisingly Manu seemed to be the only person at the table who wasn't bitter or miserable. He spent the entire meal curled up in Sylar's lap, sharing his food and babbling to him in his wonderfully accented voice.

Mira left soon after dinner and for that Sylar was thankful. Knowing that Mira and Mohinder did not live under the same roof comforted him, yet knowing that Manu may soon be calling the woman "mother" sent a cold chill through his being.

"Papa?" Manu began, tugging at Sylar's sleeve and pulling the serial killer out of his dark thoughts. "Take a baf wif me?"

Sylar gapped, confused. He didn't know how to respond to that. He had bathed Manu before, but he had never shared a tub with him. The idea seemed so... strange.

"You don't want Father to bathe you?" Mohinder asked, mock hurt in his tone as he scooped Manu into his arms, tickling the child with his beard and sending him into a fit of giggles.

"You take baths together?" Sylar blurted out. His skin tingled and his heart beat quickened ever so slightly at the image. It seemed strange to be jealous by such a thing, but he was always a bit jealous of Manu. He got to be with Mohinder, hug him, kiss him, have the man's love and attention whenever he wanted it, needed it. Sylar had nothing but the geneticist's contempt and scorn. Being jealous of a toddler, his own son at that, was definitely a new low for him.

"Only sometimes," Mohinder shrugged, handing Manu back to him. "Do you think you can give him a bath for me? I have to clean and catch up on some work."

"I-" he began, but Mohinder quickly cut him off.

"You might as well pull your weight while you're here."

He scowled, knowing that there was really no room for argument, as he cradled the toddler in his arms. "Fine, just ... where's the bathroom?"

Sylar frowned as he helped the toddler into his pajamas. It was strange being in Manu's bedroom. Every time he was there, there was something different. It didn't seem like that long ago when there was a crib in place of the tiny bed resting in the center of the room. The toys were no longer all plush and soft, but were starting to morph into hard plastic figures and electronic learning games. The bookshelf which used to be stacked with slim children's books was now dominated by thick, textbook sized novels. It was frightening, intimidating to know that in a little while Manu would be going to school, making friends, and collecting memories that Sylar would not be a part of.

Once Sylar had Manu all buttoned up, the child went over to the bookshelf and grabbed a novel, before turning back and plopping it in Sylar's hands. "Read to me?" Manu asked sweetly, his dark eyes wide and pleading.

For the second time that night Sylar found himself paling. He looked down at the book and saw that it was written in Tamil. The characters looked like nothing but playful squiggles and loops to his eyes and he was dumbfounded to realize that Manu already spoke two languages.

_Of course he does! He can't_ just_ speak English! He lives in another country after all._

"Papa can't read this, Angel," he told Manu gently, handing the book back to him.

Yet Manu refused to take it. He merely stared at the novel and then Sylar, his brows furrowing in an adorable display of confusion. "Why?" he asked simply, because as far as Manu knew, anything he could do, all grownups could do and do better.

"Because it's not in English," he explained simply, pointing at the loopy golden text embroidered into the cover. "I don't read Tamil."

His frown deepened cutely and if Sylar weren't so perplexed himself he would have kissed him. "Why?"

_Because your Papa's a lazy idiot_, he longed to say. _He's too stupid and too lazy to learn another language,_ your_ language._ "Because I never learned, Manu," he sighed, putting the book back himself. "Pick another one, an _English_ one, and I'll read it to you."

Manu did as he was told, but Sylar could tell that the toddler still didn't really understand why he had to change the books. When Manu laid the next book in his hand, Sylar was relieved -- and somewhat shocked -- to have the child hand him a worn copy of _The Hobbit_. He frowned, thumbing through the pages as Manu crawled into bed, making himself comfortable. He remembered reading this book as a teenager, but Manu wasn't even three yet and Mohinder was reading it to him. It seemed a bit advanced.

_Well, it's not like_ Manu's _reading it._

He pulled up a chair beside Manu's bed and flipped the book open to a marked off page.

"There," Manu said, pointing at a specific paragraph. "Start there."

For a second, Sylar wondered if Manu _was_ reading it himself, but he pushed the thought aside. He didn't know many three year olds that could read a book like this. He began reading and every so often Manu would stop him to tell him that his Gandalf didn't sound right or ask Sylar to show him a picture or -- strange and insulting as it was -- to tell him he wasn't pronouncing a word right. He had gone through three chapters before Manu was breathing easily at his side, his arms wrapped around a stuffed tiger and his eyelids fluttering peacefully in sleep.

As if sensing what had happened, Mohinder reappeared then, a pleasant smile on his face. "He got you to read to him?" he whispered, noticing the book in Sylar's hand. "He loves that one. Begs me to read it every night."

Sylar frowned as Mohinder placed a tender kiss to Manu's cheek, running a gentle hand over the child's side. "And... _you_ read it to him, right?"

Mohinder frowned, taking the book from Sylar's hand and putting it back on the shelf. "What do you mean?"

"Can Manu read this?" he asked, waving his hand in front of the bookshelf. "_All_ of this?"

The geneticist laughed, leading the other man out of the bedroom. "Don't be silly! He's three years old," he said as he sent one last smile towards Manu, before flicking the lights off. "Of _course_ he can read."

Mohinder's family was friendly enough, but Sylar didn't like them anyway. They all just seemed far too interested in Mohinder's relationship with Mira -- all of them talking about how happy they were about the engagement, how excited they were for the wedding, how wonderful it will be for Manu to have a mother -- and it completely took away from the novelty of being in a house full of Sureshes.

He sighed, shifting against the thick pillar his back was resting against and scanning the crowd for the dozenth time. None of the people here seemed to be anything special. The ones he spoke to weren't nearly as intelligent or charming as Mohinder, and all of their accents were completely different from his (which was probably the only interesting thing Sylar had discovered that day, aside from the fact that Molly now referred to Mohinder as "Dad"). He didn't have much interest in these people. They were nothing but distant relatives, aunts and uncles and cousins, they didn't matter to Mohinder or Manu, so therefore they didn't matter to him.

The only person Sylar really wanted to see was Mohinder's mother, and ironically that was the only relative he couldn't find. He saw her once, recognizing her from an old picture Chandra had shown him. She was a peaceful looking woman with long black hair rolled up into a loose hanging bun, a pleasant smile, and sad brown eyes. Mohinder seemed to be keeping her away from him, however. Whenever Mrs. Suresh would wander in his direction, Mohinder would come up from behind and steer her away.

Manu got much the same treatment, although Sylar had a feeling that it was slightly unintentional. Whenever a relative was within a foot of the toddler, they would call him over to either pinch his cheeks, take pictures, or generally just fawn over him. Not that Sylar could really blame them. Manu was quite adorable.

The American stiffened as one of Mohinder's relatives approached him. The man was an inch or two shorter than him and looked to be around the same age. He had a too friendly smile on his face and an arm wrapped around a young woman who had an equally affectionate grin placed on her features.

"You must be Mohinder's American friend," the man began, offering a hand in greeting.

"Yes. Gabriel Gray," he said quickly, because if he had one more person ask if he were either Matt Parkman or Peter Petrelli he was going to relapse.

They shook hands and the Indian man's smile widened. "It's nice to meet you Gabriel. I'm Mohinder's cousin, Ravi, and this is my wife, Amala."

"Pleased to meet you," Amala said, offering him her own hand, which he accepted with a forced smile.

"It's funny, Mohinder never mentioned you before, Gabriel," Ravi said, a slightly puzzled look on his face. He was probably the fiftieth person to make that comment and Sylar was nearly as sick of it as he was of being called "Peter." "Were you two close?"

"Yes, quite close," he answered, because that's what everyone wanted to hear, otherwise his presence at the party would just seem off.

Ravi leaned closer to him as if he were about to reveal some horrible secret. "Then... did you know her?"

Sylar frowned, cocking his head curiously, because that was a question he wasn't expecting. "Who?"

"You know, _her_, Manu's mother... Did you know her?"

He was blindsided by the question, but he managed to recover from his surprise fairly quick once he realized the opportunity staring him in the face. Sylar smiled. "Yes, I knew her quite well," he said pleasantly.

"Really?" Amala asked, looking just as captivated as her husband. Obviously this was a topic that was a mystery to the entire Suresh clan and as with most family secrets every single member found it incredibly fascinating. Suddenly Sylar felt powerful and in control. "Mohinder has never really spoken of her. Well, only once. To Grandmother and Grandfather. But he never gave them as much as a name. It must be a terribly painful topic for him."

Sylar nodded slowly, making sure to appear solemn and thoughtful. "Yes, losing her was very painful. He really loved her."

"What was her name?" Ravi asked

"Gabriella."

"That's quite similar to your name," Ravi pointed out obviously.

Sylar hummed, nodding his head in thoughtful agreement. "Yes, it's quite a coincidence."

Amala clucked her tongue and swatted Ravi's arm lightly. "It's probably a very popular name in America," she said, adding something else in Tamil in a very chiding tone.

"What did she look like?" Ravi asked, unaffected by his wife's nagging.

"She was quite tall, pale, with black hair and dark brown eyes. A lovely woman. Mohinder fell for her the moment they met."

Amala gave him a sad smile, placing a hand over her heart. "How sweet," she whispered.

"Yes, they were quite the couple," he continued in a remorseful tone of voice. "Nearly inseparable. Such a shame, dying in a car accident like that-"

"I thought she died in child birth," Ravi cut in.

"Dying in child birth like that," he corrected, not skipping a beat. "It was like a car accident; horrific yet impossible to turn away from." He saw the curious looks the couple gave each other, and Sylar knew then that his little slip up had cost him his credibility. It didn't matter. He was getting a bit bored of this subject anyway. "At least Manu is growing up well," he mused, hoping it would be enough to change the subject.

Amala laughed. "That's putting it mildly," she beamed. "Mohinder is doing such a fantastic job with him and young Molly. Especially considering he's doing it all by himself."

"Well, I doubt he could do much better," Ravi said pointedly. "The way Manu is and all. He's a little genius that one."

Sylar was practically beaming at their words, his chest swelling with pride. Manu was definitely his favorite subject. "Yes, he is clever-"

"No," Ravi interrupted, his eyes and face deadly serious. "He's _really_ a genius." His eyes flicked across the crowd of relatives before landing on his desired target. "Manu!" he called. "Come here dear boy."

Manu scurried over, all bright eyes and eager smile. He stood obediently in front of Ravi, but his eyes skipped back and forth between all three adults.

Ravi smiled, scooping the child up in his arms and patting his stomach affectionately. "That's my good boy," he said before turning his gaze back to Sylar. "Go on. Say a word. He'll spell it, no trouble."

Sylar frowned, slightly baffled, but willing to play along. "Okay. Spell... 'duck.'"

"No no no," Ravi frowned, shaking his head as if frustrated. "I mean a real word." He turned his attention to Manu again. "Manu, spell... 'egregious.'"

Sylar opened his mouth to protest, because that word was far beyond the vocabulary of a middle school aged child, let alone a toddler, but Manu's voice cut him off. "E-G-R-E-G-I-O-U-S," he whispered, playing with the tip of his sleeves as he did so.

The ex-serial killer suddenly felt beyond stunned. He felt as if he were looking at a complete stranger instead of his three year old son. He had always known that the toddler was special, but this... this was beyond words.

"We have two boys ourselves," Amala said, running an affectionate hand through Manu's lush curls. "They're a bit older than Manu, but they're not nearly as gifted as him. Perhaps we should have Mohinder tutor them?"

Sylar frowned, no longer interested in the conversation. Everything felt wrong, as if the world had shifted under him and he was suddenly in a different time and place. He could barely find it in himself to look at his own son. All the man could think about was that he needed to find Mohinder.

He excused himself, not really caring if Amala or Ravi thought his abrupt departure was strange, and searched the bungalow for Mohinder.

Unfortunately for him, the Suresh home was large enough to rival the Petrelli mansion. There were too many rooms, too many people, making the search feel like seeking a needle in a haystack. It was probably why he wasn't too surprised when Mohinder found him or rather, ran into him. Their shoulders bumped with so much force that Sylar actually found himself wincing in pain and staggering in off balanced shock.

"Sorry!" Mohinder said quickly before realizing who he was speaking too. When he did, the sincere concern on his face quickly melted away into hostile annoyance. "Oh, it's just you. Never mind then."

Sylar frowned, reaching out to grab Mohinder's shoulder in his firm hands before the geneticist could manage to slip back into the sea of smiling faces. "We need to talk. _Now_."

Mohinder looked as if he wanted to argue, but he obviously knew that that was not the best idea at the moment. Instead, the Indian merely resigned himself to leading Sylar away from the other party guests. They ducked and weaved through the crowded garden until they were back inside, yet Mohinder didn't stop there. He took Sylar into the kitchen where they were completely alone save for an abundant supply of food and drinks and a birthday cake of impressive side.

"What do you want?" Mohinder griped, busying himself by opening and closing the cupboards. Sylar couldn't tell if he was looking for something or just being moody.

"You didn't tell me that Manu's ability has manifested," he said, getting straight to the point.

The Indian froze midway between pulling a draw open, turning to stare at him with a look that was somewhere between utter horror and confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Manu's ability," he repeated, not bothering to hide the irritation in his tone. "I can't believe I didn't notice it last night, but it makes sense. The books, the languages, the spelling, it all makes sense. He has enhanced memory doesn't he? Or is it intuitive aptitude? Or is it his brain itself? Does he have enhanced intelligence?"

Mohinder merely stared at him for a few seconds, his face completely blank, before a full belly laugh erupted from him. Now it was Sylar's turn to be confused. He just stood there, watching as Mohinder doubled over with laugher, slapping the counter tops as he continued to ridicule Sylar's obviously misguided conclusion.

"You really don't think much of our son do you?" Mohinder asked once he had regained his composure.

"What?" he said, because the geneticist's words didn't make anything clearer.

"Sylar, just because Manu is three, doesn't mean he's stupid," he explained. "Quite the opposite really. He's young and fresh. His mind is a blank slate waiting to be filled with endless information. Children at this age are filled with limitless potential. I'm merely helping him to take advantage of his gifts, giving him a head started on the other children. I read to him, I help him identify words and shapes and images. I taught him to read and he's currently learning to write. It's really no different than some of the things other toddlers _could_ do if their parents bothered to teach them."

"Oh," he said and that's all he could think to say.

It was strange, he felt slightly... disappointed. Truth be told, he'd been waiting for Manu to develop an ability. Matt Parkman's brat had gained an ability during infancy. The Company had documented Evolved Humans whose powers have shown up before they'd even been born. Yet Manu was nearly three and... nothing. He couldn't understand why. Sylar didn't know if his own ability had developed late in life or if he had had it with him for decades and simply hadn't noticed. Furthermore, his biological father had an ability and while Mohinder's powers were synthetic his sister Shanti had a genetic marker indicating a potential for being Special. It was only logical to assume that Manu had the potential to have a power hidden somewhere inside of him.

"Well, do you know if he's going to... develop?"

Mohinder frowned as if Sylar had said something completely vile, and maybe to the geneticist he had. "I'm not experimenting on my baby," Mohinder said tersely.

"I'm not-"

"And I don't really care if he does develop anything!" he barked, effectively cutting Sylar off. "He's special just the way he is. He doesn't need an ability to prove himself to me or anyone else! In fact, he's safer this way, without a power."

Sylar frowned, not missing the venom in Mohinder's tone. "What are you trying to say? Do you think I'd-"

"I think this whole 'reformed' facade is going to crumble away any day now," Mohinder seethed. "I think you're full of it. I think that these past few years have been a fluke and sooner or later something's going to make you snap and set you back on your old ways."

"A _fluke_?" Now it was Sylar's turn to shout, because Mohinder was pushing all the wrong buttons. The geneticist had always been so quick to assume, so happy to think the worst of him, but calling everything he worked towards for the past three years... Three years of fighting back the urges, pushing aside the dark thoughts, resisting the voices in his head telling him to kill, to maim, to steal those tempting abilities from the weak and undeserving cowards who possessed them. "You think this was all a 'fluke'! Do you know how hard I worked to keep myself in control? To resist the urge to kill again? It's torture Mohinder, it's painful, but it's something I fight with everyday. Do you know why? For you! For Manu! Because I love you both and I don't want to disappoint you."

"That doesn't mean anything," Mohinder told him, his dark eyes red and serious behind the gleam of glasses. "You've loved before, you've cared about people before, you've had a family before, and... and none of those things made a difference. You always fell back to your old ways. I'm just waiting for it to happen again so I can finally take Manu away."

"I'd never hurt him. I love him more than anything, maybe even more than you and certainly more than me. He's my baby too, even if you want to forget that."

"So are you honestly telling me that even if he develops an ability -- one that you don't have, one that could be so powerful it could rival your own -- you _still_ wouldn't even _think_ about killing him?"

Sylar opened his mouth, but soon found himself snapping it shut. He'd never thought about it before. Manu had always just been a baby in his eyes, an innocent creature. He never would have imagined the child's gift to be anything destructive, just beautiful. Yet when Mohinder put it in those terms...

The kitchen door squeaked open. Sylar spun around and found Mira standing there, a worried look on her face as her eyes darted back and forth between the two men. "Is everything alright?" she asked. "I thought I heard shouting."

Sylar felt his eyes drop and his head bow as Mohinder brushed past him, going to stand by Mira's side. "Nothing's wrong," Mohinder assured her. "Gabriel and I were just talking."

Mrs. Suresh appeared then, her face calm, peaceful as she glanced at the "happy couple" standing side by side in the doorway. "Excuse me children," she teased, a knowing smile on her features, "but it's time to cut the cake. Mohinder, could you find my dear grandson while I get the cake?"

"I'll get it Mother," Mohinder cut in, because the cake was right behind Sylar.

Mrs. Suresh frowned at what she saw as her son coddling her, but nodded her consent before disappearing through the door way. Mohinder came towards him and Sylar actually found himself stepping aside as the Indian grabbed the cake and made for the door. Mohinder paused when Mira made no indication to move and that caught Sylar's attention as well.

"Mira? Are you coming?" he asked.

She smiled, but shook her head. "I'll be out in a minute."

Mohinder stood there for a moment, reluctant to leave the two alone. The Indian sent a worried glance Sylar's way, silently pleading for him to be on his best behavior. Sylar flashed him a weak smile, crossing his heart, all while keeping his fingers firmly crossed behind his back. He was fortunate that Mohinder only saw the first two gestures before leaving the kitchen. The door swung close, and suddenly Sylar found himself alone with the woman who'd stolen the love of his life away from him.

"All partied out?" Sylar asked, hoping to find out just what it was Mira wanted, because it was obvious she wanted something.

She gave a soft laugh, nodding her head. "I think if one more person asks me 'when's the wedding' I might scream." He let out a friendly chuckle, because that's also what she wanted. A short silence stretched out between the two, before Mira's eyes lifted back in his direction. "And you?" she began quietly. "Not enjoying the party?"

He shrugged. "I don't know anyone here besides Mohinder and his kids." It was slight, but since his sharp eyes were studying her, Sylar caught the way Mira cringed at the word "kids." He had her. "They're a sweet bunch, aren't they?"

"Yes. Sweet," she agreed and if anyone else were listening, they probably wouldn't have heard the bored weariness in her tone. He could practically hear the unspoken _for children_ swimming around in her head and suddenly Sylar found himself privy to the chink in Mira's armor; she didn't like children.

"It's going to be interesting, huh?" he continued, because he was enjoying the way she was practically squirming under the barrage of questions. "Raising two kids that aren't yours? Especially when one is going through _puberty_!"

Mira let out a faint whimper, her skin paling slightly at the thought. She wasn't a nurturer. She wasn't a housewife. She wanted Mohinder, but these two children came with him. He couldn't blame her too much, the trouble with Mohinder was that he always made himself a package deal -- if it wasn't his emotional burdens then it was his family -- yet he honestly couldn't imagine why she wouldn't want Manu.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked, her voice a troubled whisper as she leaned closer to him. Sylar had to keep himself from jumping for joy, and instead gave a calm, curious nod. "Molly and Manu... well, they are good children, but... when Mohinder and I began dating -- _years_ before they were born -- well, we both agreed that we were people that didn't _want_ children. Then, he comes back from America with _two_!"

He hummed, nodding along, but made no noise to stop her. He wanted to hear this.

"I know that some people would probably think I'm a bit selfish, but I just want Mohinder, that's all. Yet, you have no idea how hard it is to date a man with children! I can't sleepover because he doesn't want them to see, we can't stay out too late because he doesn't want to keep the babysitter waiting, and there are just so many things that I cannot say because 'the children are around.' Sometimes I just want to take him away, have him give the children to his mother so we can live our own lives, but that would be horrible. And the children... they're not so bad... not all the time.

"Molly, when I met her, she was so sweet -- all crayon drawings and smiles -- but now she's become so moody and _bitter_ and she just doesn't want to talk to _anyone_. I know, it's the hormones, but it's a lot to put up with.

"And then there's Manu." Sylar felt his whole body go ridged, his hands digging into his palms, as he squared his jaw and swallowed his protests. "I know he's just a baby, but he's something of a brat himself. He's always crawling in Mohinder's lap and trying to keep his attention on him. Mohinder and I can just be talking and then, out of _nowhere_ Manu will just start screaming like someone's trying to kill him, just because he wants Mohinder to play with him!"

_It's probably because Manu senses that you're an evil whore_, he longed to say, but swallowed the words. He wanted to hear more. Revenge would come later.

"And does Mohinder punish him? No! Never! He can break things, throw his food, pull my hair, but Mohinder never so much as raises his voice to him! It's ridiculous."

"He seems quite sweet to me," he said defensively, but Mira barely noticed. She was far too busy venting.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes at his words. "Yes, sweet, when you're paying attention to him. Try ignoring him, for just a second, or even saying 'no' to him. He'll throw such a tantrum! Sometimes I miss when he was a baby, but he was just as bad then, too. Needy things babies. If you don't tend to their every whim they make the biggest fuss." She sighed, shaking her head wearily. "I don't know where he gets this clingy behavior from. Maybe his mother. Have you ever met her?"

"Yes," he seethed between gritted teeth.

"Really? Who is she?"

"Mohinder's the mother, you stupid cow!" he spat.

Mira's eyes widened, her jaw hung open, and he truly enjoyed the look of complete horror on her face as she cringed away from him. It had been sometime since someone had been that frightened of him, and it felt so refreshing to experience that fear again.

"Whuh... what are you...?" she stammered, taking several shaky steps backward as her brain scrambled to process what he had just said.

There was a flair of telekinetic energy, a short burst that sent Mira stumbling backwards and made the room shake ever so slightly. That slight loss of control was enough to remind him to calm down, to reign his abilities in before he completely flew off the handle and did something he couldn't take back. Killing Mira was out of the question, but scaring her straight was too tempting to resist.

"_I'm_ Manu's father," he hissed, mindful to keep his voice low since one of the many relatives could wander into the kitchen at any time. "His biological father, and Mohinder... Mohinder is _mine_. He loves _me_, he just won't admit it yet."

"That's-"

"We made love last December," Sylar cut in, not wanting to hear a single word from the Indian woman. "If you don't believe me, ask him about it, but I swear to all that is sacred, if you don't stay far away from _my family_-"

The sound of the kitchen door swinging open did not go unnoticed. Sylar was mindful to not only school his features, but to calmly step away from Mira -- who was now several shades paler and looked as if she were going to collapse from pure terror -- as Mrs. Suresh reappeared.

"Oh, there you are Mira," she greeted, slightly startled to see the younger woman still standing in the kitchen. "We've been waiting for you. Could you grab some extra plates and join us on the patio?"

Mira blinked, her eyes drifting downward. She opened her mouth, but no words came out so she merely nodded her consent.

Mrs. Suresh turned to him and said... something, but Sylar wasn't sure. Her words sounded so hollow and far off in his ears. He had been waiting for this moment, had been looking forward to meeting Mohinder's mother, but he was too troubled to fully take advantage of the opportunity. His mind was churning, reeling, as he began to fully grasp what he had just done. He merely smiled at the older woman and gave her a short nod. That seemed to satisfy her as she slipped out of the room.

Sylar bit his lip, his hands gripping the edge of the kitchen counter so tightly that he felt the circulation cut off as his fingers turned white. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Mira trembling as she gathered the disposable plates in her hands and hurried out of the kitchen. Sylar didn't follow; he couldn't find it in himself to leave the kitchen for several minutes. When he did, he couldn't help feeling as if he had destroyed everything that he had worked so hard to make for himself with the sweep of his hand.

It was night time when the party was over. The guests piled out of the bungalow at a leisurely pace, each of them making sure to give Manu one last kiss on the cheek or pat on the head. Sylar watched it all from a distance. A wiser man would have left a long time ago. He _knew_ he should have gotten out the moment Mira had left the kitchen, but he didn't. For some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to go. It was as if he were obligated to stay and watch everything come apart.

He hung back during the rest of the festivities, but he kept a cautious eye out for Mohinder and Mira. Yet he didn't see them, either of them, and when the night was over he took his chances and left. Sylar hadn't gotten very far before a strong, firm hand clamped down on his shoulder, squeezing it dangerously tight. He knew without looking that it was Mohinder.

"What did you do?" the man seethed.

Sylar cringed at his tone, but turned around to face him despite the warning in his head. When he looked at the smaller man, he could see the fire burning in his eyes. The way his jaw tightened and his entire body trembled with anger actually made Sylar feel nervous.

Years ago, he would have told Mohinder exactly what he had done -- bluntly, proudly -- and probably would have smiled while he said it, but he wasn't that person anymore. Instead of feeling justified and secure, he felt guilty, petty, small.

"I told her the truth," he said finally. "I told her what we did-"

"Why!" Mohinder snapped. He looked ready to punch him. Maybe he was. "Why would you do that?"

"Because you know it wasn't right."

"Bullshit!" he barked. "You don't care about right and wrong. You don't care about other people's feelings!"

He frowned, the fire slowly building up inside of him at the reminded of just _why_ he had said what he had. "No," he cut in. "You and her. _That_ wasn't right. You two aren't meant to be together. She's all wrong for you! You should have heard the horrible things she said."

"Is that why you threatened her? Made up stories about how I was in love with you? I was _happy_ Sylar! Is that 'horrible' to you, too?"

His mouth flew open and his stomach tightened. He couldn't say anything, because suddenly he felt sick. Sylar had to admit that when he had walked in on Mohinder and Mira just the other day they had looked happy together. He had never seen Mohinder happy. Even the justification that it was all a lie couldn't bring his voice back. He couldn't even mutter a sheepish "I'm sorry." Maybe he didn't deserve to.

Mohinder's frown deepened, displeased by his silence and frustrated by everything that had happened. "I can't do this anymore," he told him, his voice angry and weary all at once. "I can't deal with you systematically ruining my life anymore! It's over. I tried, but... no more. I want you to stay away from me and my family."

That caused a reaction from him. His eyes practically flew open as he grabbed the other man's arm in his hand, squeezing it desperately. "You can't do that! You can't keep my son away from me. I'm his father, I have my rights."

The Indian huffed, yanking his arm out of his grasp. "We're not a divorced couple!" he spat. "You don't have any rights. Legally you don't even _exist_."

"Mohinder, please," he whispered, his stomach tightening in desperation. He couldn't let it end this way. He couldn't have his son ripped away from him because of one stupid mistake. "Think about Manu. What are you going to tell him?"

The geneticist's jaw tightened, his nostrils flared, looking for any excuse to rip him apart. "I am thinking about Manu. It was a mistake to ever let you see him... I realize that now, and I'm going to set things right. If you ever try to see him again, I'll kill you."

"Mohinder." He reached out to touch him, desperate to make the man see reason, but Mohinder wouldn't bend.

The punch came in the blink of an eye. His jaw and neck snapped like a dry twig. He couldn't have been out for very long, but it was long enough. By the time Sylar regained consciousness, Mohinder was gone. Manu was gone. The life he had rebuilt was gone.


	8. Kidnapped

**Pairing:** Sylar/Mohinder, minor Peter/Claude  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Sylar takes matters into his own hands.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Humor, Implied Mpreg, AU, Slash

The look on Peter's face when he opened his front door was absolutely priceless. The young man looked panicked, frightened as he stared at him with wide, bewildered eyes. If it weren't for the fact that he was in such a hurry, Sylar might have continued to enjoy the way Peter was practically paling at the very sight of him.

"Don't judge me Peter," he said automatically, because he could just about see the chiding words forming behind those dopey brown eyes.

"Don't judge you?" Peter practically sputtered. "How can I _not_ judge you? Why is Manu here?"

Sylar shrugged, the gesture causing the toddler sleeping in his arms to bounce slightly. Manu let out a soft sigh as he curled into his father's warmth, his little brown hands tightening their grip on the stuffed tiger in his arms. "I brought him here."

The younger man groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his tired eyes. Obviously this was not how he wanted to start his day. "What the hell is going on?" he sighed, his brain scrambling to work overtime in order to process this information. "I know for a fact that Mohinder isn't speaking to you, hasn't been for _months_, so why on earth are you holding _his son_ in your arms?"

"First of all, Manu is _our son_," he corrected, placing a gentle hand on the back of Manu's curly head to emphasize his point. "Second... well, since Mohinder wouldn't let me see him I decided to just take him, for a little while at least."

"You _kidnapped_ him?"

"It's not 'kidnapping' when it's your son," Sylar chided.

"I think there are a few inmates who would disagree with you and..." Peter let out a frustrated groan as he cradled his head in his hands. He looked as if his brain were about to implode. "I can't believe you did this! Do you have any idea how crazy this is? All the progress you've made... This is a major step backwards! And Mohinder! Mohinder is going to pitch a _fit_! He might kill you for this. He might actually _kill you_!"

Sylar snorted, rolling his eyes at Peter's frantic raving. "Calm down. I have a plan."

"Plan? What kind of plan? Is it a plan that involves going to _jail_ for _kidnapping_?" Another groan and now Peter's face was starting to turn strawberry red. "This is bad. Very, _very_ bad. I have to call Mohinder."

"Go ahead, call him," he shrugged casually. "Although he might be a bit cranky. It is late in India."

Peter frowned, his frantic mood slowly evaporating into confusion. "Wait... you're _okay_ with me calling Mohinder? Won't that interfere with your 'plan'?"

Sylar smirked. "Of course not, I knew you would. That's just how you work. Besides, I'm not worried about Mohinder finding out that Manu's gone. Eventually he's going to notice that his son is missing. He'd be a pretty bad father if he didn't. And when he does find out he'll know I was the one who took him, and then he'll use the brat to track me down, and then he'll fly to New York and come get him back. And when he does, we'll finally be able to talk and work things out. Until then, I get to spend some quality time with my son."

The young man blinked, staring at him with a painfully blank expression. "You... how... when did you plan all of this? And how did you even get Manu in the first place?"

Sylar scoffed, rolling his eyes at the last question. "I teleported. And don't worry, no body _died_. I'm not off the wagon."

"Well that's comforting," Peter muttered. "But... well, why are you here?"

"Because I have to go to work today," Sylar sighed, adjusting Manu in his grasp. "I need you to babysit for me."

Peter frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "Aren't you worried I'm just going to give Manu back to Mohinder and spoil all of your plans?"

"Nope," he said calmly. "I know that you can only hold onto one ability at a time and that right now you can't fly or teleport. So you're not exactly a threat to my plans."

"Well, I can't," Peter shrugged.

"Come on Petrelli, I really need you to watch him. I don't get sick so I don't get sick days. Besides, he's a good kid and he's probably just gonna sleep all day anyway. It's past his bedtime."

"No, Sylar, I really can't," the young man stressed.

"Why not?"

"Because _I_ have to go to work today!"

"Oh," Sylar said slowly, noticing for the first time that Peter was wearing his paramedic uniform. "Well, then whose gonna be watching your kids?"

"Claude."

He frowned at the other man's answer. Claude was decent guy - probably too good for Petrelli - but Sylar knew that Claude didn't really care for anyone who wasn't related to him, which made the British man a less than idle babysitter. Sylar huffed, realizing that he was not only going to be late, but that he now had no choice but to bring Manu to work with him.

"Thanks for nothing, Petrelli," he muttered bitterly as he stormed off down the hall. "See if I ever do _you_ any favors."

He barely heard Peter yell "You've _never_ done anything for me!" as he took each step two at a time.

* * *

"Alright, now scroll the mouse right over there," Sylar instructed, pointing towards a document in the corner of his monitor.

"Like this?" Manu asked, now fully awake and eager to be entertained. He moved the mouse just enough for the little white arrow to land on top of the indicated document.

"That's right," he said gently, giving the toddler a loving squeeze. "Now click the mouse two times. Real fast."

"Like this?" the boy asked again, clicking the small tablet as fast as little fingers could. The screen flashed white as a new window popped up and filled the monitor.

"What a smart boy!" Sylar crooned, pressing a quick kiss against soft black curls. It was fortunate that he didn't have any field assignments or meetings to attend (although _something_ could always pop up), but the man still felt guilty for dragging the toddler to work with him. Days filled with paperwork and writing up reports were the more tedious and dull aspects of his job and he knew that Manu wouldn't want to be trapped in his office (which felt more like a broom closet on the best days) all afternoon. It was going to be a challenge to keep the three year old entertained. "Now, what else can we do?"

The door swung open and Manu instantly flinched, wrapping his arms around the tiger doll and shrinking into himself as Bennet marched in. "Sylar, I just checked the time sheets. Did you actually come in _two hours_ late?"

Sylar shrugged. "Traffic was a nightmare." He wished he could have teleported in to work, but when he had taken Manu from Chennai to New York the toddler had reacted poorly to the instantaneous transportation and thrown up upon arrival. It had taken nearly an hour to get the boy cleaned up and calmed down. The last thing Sylar wanted was a repeat of that incident.

Bennet looked as if he were about to say more, but the words quickly died on his tongue as his eyes landed on the child sitting on Sylar's lap. "Why is there a toddler in your office?"

"I took him out of his bed in the middle of the night and decided to bring him to work with me," he said flatly.

Bennet frowned, not at all amused by Sylar's words. "Is that Suresh's son?"

"He's _our_ son," he amended, annoyed to have to make that distinction _twice_ in one day. He couldn't understand why people didn't acknowledge him as Manu's father. Just because the boy took after Mohinder didn't discount the fact that he'd contributed half his genetic code. Sylar turned his attention to Manu, who was being far too quiet for his liking. "Manu, this is the mean man who yells at Papa all day. Do you want to say hello?"

Manu kept quiet, his head and eyes staying low as he hugged his stuffed tiger impossibly close before burying his face in the soft orange and black fabric.

"You don't want to say hello?" Sylar pushed, brushed the child's soft cheeks with his knuckles.

The boy made a soft noise of displeasure before shaking his head.

Sylar chuckled, turning his attention back to the man in the horn-rimmed glasses. "Well, look at that. My poor little Angel is afraid of you, Noah," he said, although in truth, Sylar wasn't sure whether Manu was afraid of Bennet or simply intimidated by strangers.

"Cute," Bennet droned, his face twisting into a displeased glower. "Sylar, can I speak with you in the hall?"

He frowned, knowing that he really couldn't say no. The man sighed as he stood up and placed Manu back down in his chair. "Papa's gonna go talk to Mr. Bennet in the hallway," Sylar explained, running a gentle hand over Manu's black curls. "Are you gonna be okay in here by yourself?"

Manu nodded, still unusually quiet.

Sylar kissed his cheek. "I'll be right back. Stay right here."

He barely saw the boy nod again as he turned and walked out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. From the displeased grimace on Bennet's features, Sylar could see that he was in for a lecture. Wonderful.

"This is a government facility, Sylar, not a daycare center," Bennet chided.

"Yeah, I figured as much," he shot back, making sure to keep his voice as dull and uninterested as possible, "but, you know, we could really use one of those. How else is a working single dad like me supposed to make it in this fast paced world?"

"I thought the boy lived with Mohinder."

He shrugged. "We're working out a new situation."

Bennet sighed and Sylar could tell that the man couldn't possibly care any less about his relationship with Mohinder. "Can I give you some advice?"

"Can I stop you?"

"Kids and offices don't mix," he continued, pointedly ignoring Sylar's words. "Children need to be entertained. Leaving them locked up in a cubicle all day is a recipe for disaster. They'll be tearing up paper and knocking over files left and right."

"Manu's not a destructive little monster," Sylar shot back tersely. "He's a good boy. He's _special_."

Bennet flinched ever so slightly at his pointed comment. "And my children aren't?" he asked, reading between the lines.

Sylar snorted, rolling his eyes. "You mean Claire-Bear and Larry? Well, I'm sure they picked up their fair share of gold stars in their day, but my little angel's got a bright shining future ahead of him. He even might be President some day."

"He was born in India."

"Are you saying his potential should be limited because he's a minority?" Sylar huffed, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "I always knew you were a bigot."

Bennet sighed, pushing his glasses against his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. Sylar always did have that effect on him. "Sylar just... get out of here. Take the kid and go... away."

"You mean you're actually giving me _permission_ to play hooky?" Sylar smiled, punching Bennet's shoulder affectionately. "I always knew you had a soft spot for me, Noah. Maybe I should bring a toddler to work with me every day?"

"Please don't. And don't think you're going to get paid for this. You just used a sick day."

"I don't have sick days."

"Well, you just used a vacation day," he finished, before turning and marching down the hall.

* * *

Sylar smiled, as he walked out into the bright mid-morning sun, Manu's hand placed firmly in his own. It was rare that he and Manu ever got to be alone together. There was always someone around, _supervising_ them, but now he was actually going to spend an entire day alone with his son. Possibly two days depending on how long it took Mohinder to get him.

"What do you want to do today, Angel?" Sylar asked, swinging their joined hands happily.

Manu smiled up at him, his little legs working overtime to keep up with his long strides. "I wanna see Father."

Sylar laughed, trying to hide the way his heart was twisting in his chest at the boy's innocent suggestion. They had only been together a few hours - most of which Manu had spent asleep - and already the child wanted to see Mohinder? Was he really that boring? Or did Manu really love Mohinder that much more than him? "We're not gonna see Father today, sweetheart," he told him gently. "It's just you and me today."

"I miss Father," Manu said simply and Sylar swore that there was a sad gleam in the boy's deep brown eyes. "He kiss me good morning here," the boy said, tapping this forehead. "And he kiss Thirsty good morning here." He tapped the tiger's button nose and suddenly Sylar hated that tiger.

"Manu," Sylar began, but his words were cut off when his phone started to vibrate. He frowned, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his cell phone. His scowl deepened at the unfamiliar number on the display, yet he picked up anyway. "Hello?"

"You're dead, you know that?" Sylar smiled at Mohinder's tone, livid and frantic and quivering with barely contained rage. "You are so _fucking_ dead."

"Good morning, Mohinder," he chirped, making sure to drag out the man's name. "Did you sleep well?"

"Where's my baby?" the Indian asked instantly. "What have you done with him? Where is he?"

"He's fine," he said calmly, insulted that Mohinder would even think he'd hurt the child. "He's with me. He's-"

"Let me speak to him." It wasn't a question and if Sylar didn't know any better, he would have sworn that Mohinder was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He didn't know whether to feel proud or... guilty. "I want to talk to him. _Now_!"

Sylar didn't bother to argue. He merely bent down to grab Manu, balancing the toddler on his hip. "Here," he said, handing him his cell phone. Manu grabbed the phone with both hands, nearly dropping his tiger in the process. "It's Daddy."

"Father?" Manu asked as if testing to see if his parent had been telling the truth. Sylar frowned, turning up his hearing to listen in on the conversation.

"Manu!" Mohinder breathed the name as if a giant weight had been lifted off of his chest. "Oh thank God! Are you alright, darling? Are you okay?"

"Hi Father!" the boy greeted happily, too young and innocent to notice the panicked tone in his parent's voice. "I'm okay. I'm with Papa."

"I know, dear," he heard Mohinder whisper. Sylar imagined him holding the phone, cradling it tightly in his strong hands as barely contained tears stung his reddening eyes. He had to fight to ignore the tightening in his chest as Mohinder continued to speak. "And don't worry, I'm going to come get you. I promise I'll be there as soon as possible to take you home."

"Okay," Manu answered automatically.

"I love you, darling."

"Love you, Father." Sylar cringed, wondering if the pain in his chest was from his heart breaking in half or a heart attack. The man barely noticed that the conversation had ended until Manu's little hands began pressing the phone against his pale cheek. "You talk now."

He smiled, taking the offered phone before gently putting Manu back down. Sylar had a feeling he wouldn't want the child catching any part of Mohinder's end of the conversation. "Why is the tiger's name 'Thirsty'?" he asked, testing to see how irritated the Indian was.

"Shut up!" No snappy come back. He was pretty pissed. "You're a bastard. This is _exactly_ why I did _not_ want you in Manu's life: because it was only a matter of time before you did something like _this_."

"Maybe if you hadn't pushed me away-"

"Don't even!" he practically screeched. "Do you have any idea how terrified I was when I walked into Manu's room and saw that his bed was empty? I was going out of my head! Thank God Peter called to tell me what happened."

"Oh please. I only took him four hours ago."

"_Fours_ hours in which my son has been missing!" Sylar had to yank the phone away from his ears, convinced that they would start bleeding at any second. Mohinder was beyond pissed. "Now you listen to me and listen good; I'm going to get on a plane and head straight to New York, so you better lock yourself in a church and make your peace with God, because when I get my hands on you I'll make sure there will be no chance of you coming back. _Ever_!"

The call ended there and Sylar imagined Mohinder slamming his phone shut. No. He probably crushed it in his hand, crumpling the plastic and metal like old paper. The image, the words, the vicious voice growling in his head made his heart tremble in his chest.

Manu tugged on his fingers. He looked down at the child, who looked back at him, reminding the ex-serial killer how similar their eyes were. Sylar smiled, scooping the boy back up again. "Let's go get some breakfast."

* * *

The food had been ordered, the plates had arrived and been licked clean, but Sylar was in no rush to leave the diner they had stopped in for breakfast. It was still early in the day and the ex-serial killer knew that he should be thinking of ways to spend this rare day off and even rarer opportunity to be alone with his offspring. Yet the toddler's presence was such a joy that he felt perfectly content to sit back and watch Manu play with his crayons and color.

The boy colored inside the lines perfectly. He clutched his crayon tightly in his little hand, gliding along the paper children's menu confident and steadily, his streaks never straying far from the thick black lines of each figure. Yet despite the boy s neat coloring, Sylar was amused by the toddler's lack of variety. Manu seemed to think that every single animal residing on a farm should be blue and hadn't let go of the blue crayon since opening the box.

"Sweetie, are you sure you want to make that cow blue?" Sylar asked as he brushed the boy's curls out of his eyes.

"Yes," the toddler said automatically, his eyes never straying from the paper.

"Have you ever seen a blue cow?" he asked.

"No."

"Then why make this cow blue?"

"Because it's my cow," Manu answered proudly. "And I like blue."

"That's a good answer," Sylar chuckled as he leaned in to kiss the top of the boy's hair. "So what do you want to do today, Angel? We can do anything you want."

Manu smiled at his words. He dropped his crayons, coloring temporarily forgotten, as he picked up the stuffed animal that had been lying beside him on the booth's plastic seat cushions and pulled it into his lap. "I wanna see a tiger," he answered gleefully.

"Okay," Sylar beamed, lifting the toddler onto his lap.

"And I wanna eat ice cream."

"Alright, we can do that too."

"And I wanna see a dinosaur."

Sylar frowned at the boy's request. Obviously "anything" wasn't the best choice of words when speaking to a three year old. "I don't know about that, Angel," he began slowly. "You see, there aren't any dinosaurs-"

"Please, Papa?" Manu begged sweetly, his dark brown eyes impossibly wide as he gazed up at Sylar hopefully. "You promised. You said 'anything.'"

The man sighed, wrapping his arms around the boy and cradling him close. "You're lucky I love you the way I do," he whispered, kissing the tip of Manu's nose, before tucking his head under his chin.

* * *

Knocking on the door for the second time that day, Sylar sincerely hoped that Peter was home. Otherwise, his plans would once again be derailed. The sun had already set and it had been a long day for both of them. Even though the child was wide awake at the moment, Sylar could tell that the sudden time change was getting to Manu and he needed to rest. It was fortunate that Peter opened the door, wearing a pair of sweats and a tired expression on his face, an expression that quickly melted away when Manu wrap his little arms around the man in an excited hug.

"Uncle Peter!" Manu greeted happily. Sylar absolutely hated hearing his child call Peter that, but the man had to admit that Peter was probably the closest thing the boy had to an actual uncle.

"Hey! Look who's awake," Peter teased, lifting the toddler into his arms and placing a quick kiss to chubby brown cheeks.

"Uncle Peter! Uncle Peter! Guess what?" Manu asked, tugging at Peter's sleeve insistently despite the fact that the man was already giving him his full attention. "Papa took me to the zoo an' we saw tigers! Then, then we went to a museum an' saw dinosaurs! And then, then we ate ice cream."

Peter chuckled, turning to give Sylar a mildly startled look. "Wow. Sounds like you two had a really busy day. What happened to work?"

Sylar shrugged. "Bennet kicked me out of the office," he said simply. "Figured I might as well take Manu out while I still had him. Can he stay here tonight?"

"Stay here?" he repeated, frowning in confusion. "Well, we were kinda just sitting down for dinner."

"That's alright, he hasn't eaten dinner yet." The ex-serial killer smiled, reaching out to run his hand through Manu's soft curls. "Do you want to have a sleepover at Uncle Peter's?" he asked the boy. Manu titled his head back and smiled at him, yet the child said nothing as if sensing that it wasn't really his decision.

"Fine," Peter sighed, placing Manu on the ground. "Manu, sweetie, why don't you go inside and wash your hands?" The boy nodded before disappearing into the apartment to do as he was told. Once the child was gone, Peter stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him. "What's wrong?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "I thought you would have wanted to spend the whole day with him. Are you bored already?"

Sylar scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Funny, but no. I just figured, it would be best for Manu to stay here tonight since Mohinder's on his way to New York to kill me. I was about Manu's age when I saw my mom get killed. I don't really want to put him through that."

The younger man sighed, shaking his head sadly at Sylar's words. "Your life makes me sad."

"Don't pity me, Peter," he snapped. "The last thing I need is to know that you cry yourself to sleep at night thinking about me."

"Don't worry. I won't be pitying you anymore, now that you're all crazy again."

"I am _not_ crazy," he practically seethed. "And I am not having this argument with you again."

He turned, ready to storm off a second time, but Peter's hand gripping his arm stopped the man in his tracks. "Sylar, wait a minute." Peter sighed, his face an unreadable mask of emotions, all of which he struggled to control. "I know that you have this 'plan' and everything, but... well, have you given any thought to what you're actually going to say to Mohinder when you see him?"

Sylar shrugged because he hadn't put any thought into exactly what he wanted to say. He didn't see any point in planning out his words. It had been months since he had seen or spoken to Mohinder and there was plenty that he wanted to say, but he knew that rehearsing a speech would just make whatever he said seem cheap and insincere. "I'm just going to tell him what needs to be said," he said simply.

"You mean your usual speech about how you love him and he loves you, but doesn't realize it and that the two of you should be together because it's destiny?" Peter asked, frowning in disapproval. "That's not good enough Sylar."

"Well what would _you_ suggest?" he asked wearily.

"Frankly, I'd work on an apology if I were you," Peter told him.

"Apology for what?" he snapped. "What I did was no different than what he's been doing to me for the past three years."

"No, Sylar, there's a big difference between what you did and what Mohinder did," Peter chided. Peter was using the soft tone of voice that he usually used when talking to his children. Suddenly Sylar's hands itched with the urge to punch him. "You see, Mohinder took Manu away from you, because you threatened to kill an innocent woman. That's called parenting. You took Manu away from Mohinder because you wanted to hurt him. That's called being a malicious child."

"I am _not_ a child," he huffed. "And maybe I wouldn't be so 'malicious' if people started to see things from my perspective. You only think I threatened to kill that woman, because that's what Mohinder told you, that's _his side_ of the story. Well it's not true. I only warned her to stay away from my family, but that's it. There were no specific threats of any kind. And besides, you didn't hear what she had said. She didn't want to be a mother. She didn't like Mohinder's kids! If I hadn't done anything he would have made a huge mistake."

"Did you talk to Mohinder about this?" Peter asked, his voice completely calm and even. "Did you consider that?"

"Mohinder doesn't listen to me," he sighed. "Nobody listens to me. I changed, but everybody still treats me the same as they did before: with cautious fear. The only way I get results is when I take action and do things _my way_."

"Sylar, that's... that's not true," he assured him, but Sylar only rolled his eyes at the obviously forced words. "Sylar," Peter began again, reaching out to grip the other man's arm and give it a firm squeeze. "I know that staying clean is frustrating, but... but the way you've changed _does_ make a difference. If you were still the old Sylar, you would _never_ have even gotten a chance to get to know Manu."

"I barely know him now." He frowned, shaking his head slowly. "I really do want to just take him away sometimes. Him and Mohinder. I wish I could take them away to some island somewhere and keep them all to myself. That's probably what I would have done before. I'm still trying to resist the urge to do it now."

"That's probably for the best," Peter said, an awkward chuckle coloring his words. "But, it's late. You should probably go home and think about what you're going to say to Mohinder."

"I'd be better off going to a church and repenting," he joked.

"Yeah."

Sylar frowned, not liking the too serious tone to Peter's voice. "You really think he's going to kill me, don't you?"

"Yup," Peter nodded. "I really do. I know I'd kill anybody who tried to kidnap my kids."

He felt his frown deepen at those words. "That's a little harsh for you."

"Yeah, like you wouldn't?" he shot back. "Besides, I know Mohinder and I don't like to be called moms, but that's pretty much what we are and the bond between mother and child isn't something to be taken lightly. He's probably sitting on that plane thinking of all the ways to murder you and make it stick."

Sylar cringed. That wasn't what he needed to hear at that moment. "Thank you for that horrifying image Peter," he grumbled. "I don't think I'll be getting any sleep tonight."

* * *

It was seven in the morning when the knock came on his front door, jerking him awake. Sylar hadn't meant to fall asleep on his couch, but the fact that he had didn't really surprise him. He blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the orange light of the rising sun that filtered into his apartment. Another knock came, much harder than the last one, but Sylar was in no rush since he already knew exactly who was. He yawned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before standing up to answer the door.

He wasn't at all surprised to see Mohinder standing in the hall, a grim look on his tired features. What did surprise him was the fact that the Indian hadn't broken the door down and attacked him, although Sylar could tell that he was prepared for a fight.

"Is that a paddle?" he asked, eyeing the huge chunk of wood Mohinder was carrying at his side.

"Cricket bat," the Indian corrected, lifting the bat to give Sylar a better look. He could see that it was old, worn, with a number of dents and rough scratches on its surface, a clear indication that Mohinder knew how to use it.

"Is that for me?"

"Maybe," Mohinder said smoothly, pressing the tip of the paddle painfully against Sylar's chest. Sylar stumbled as he walked backwards into the apartment in a vain attempt to get away from the pressure crushing his sternum, but Mohinder met him step for step. "First things first; where's Manu?"

"Not here," he assured him. "I dropped him off at Petrelli's apartment last night. I didn't want him to be here for... this."

Mohinder frowned thoughtfully, the anger burning behind his dark brown eyes diminishing slightly. "That's interesting, because I was planning on using this to knock some sense into that thick skull of yours," he began, waving the bat pointedly, "but I got a rather interesting phone call from Peter just now."

"Peter?"

He nodded. "Funny that he didn't mention having my son in his care."

"Well, I promise you that's where he is," Sylar told him, glad that Mohinder hadn't cracked open his skull just yet.

"I believe you," Mohinder sighed and Sylar hoped that the disappointment in the man's tone was from the fact that he was going to have a little bit longer to wait to see their son and not the loss of yet another reason to brutalize his being. "But I suppose we should talk about... well, everything."

The Indian fell silent as he walked into the living room and sat down on the plastic slip covered couch, resting the cricket bat across his lap. Sylar followed, choosing to sit on the edge of the coffee table directly across from him. It was only then that he noticed that the beard Mohinder had grown was now gone and from the five o'clock shadow now decorating his features it had probably been shaven off weeks ago. The pair of wire framed glasses, however, still rested on the bridge of his nose.

"Peter told me what you said to him," Mohinder began wearily. "An island Sylar? Really?"

Sylar frowned, resisting the urge to blush at the question. He should have known Petrelli wouldn't have the decency or the sense to keep _that_ to himself. "Please tell me that wasn't the only thing he said to you?"

"It wasn't," he assured him, leaning forward so that the two of them were sitting closer. "He also said that you were feeling 'frustrated,' because I don't listen to you." The slap was sudden, but not completely unexpected. Yet the fact that his jaw was cracked, but hadn't been completely shattered was proof that Mohinder was using only a fraction of his strength. "Seeing how I'm the one who just had my child kidnapped I would have to say that you have no right to feel frustrated by _anything_!"

"Hey, my frustrations started long before I decided to kidnap _our_ son," he argued once his jaw was set and healed. "You don't even try to make an effort! I'm the one who has to be nice and put up with your constant hostility. Do you know how angering it is to have to jump through hoops just to see your own child? And then even after following all the stupid little rules for _years_ you slip up just _once_ and then suddenly the best thing that's ever happened to you has been taken away?"

"Once again you insist on making everything about _you_," Mohinder snapped. "Well there's more at stake here than your happiness. There's Manu. I'm in charge of that little boy and I have to make sure that he's safe. I had already told you that I had my doubts about your 'rehabilitation' and then you turn around and threaten my fiance! How was I supposed to react to that? Then just to make things worse, months later you sneak into my home in the middle of the night and take my three year old son."

"I took Manu to make a point."

"That you're crazy? Well, I was already aware of _that_."

"No," Sylar huffed. "The point is that ignoring me won't make me go away. Ignoring the fact that I'm the father of your child doesn't erase my existence in his life or yours! I wanted this to happen, I wanted us to _talk_ about our feelings, because that's what parents are supposed to do. You changed your number, changed your email, and returned all of my letters unopened. Of course I behaved irrationally! It was the only way I was going to get your attention."

Mohinder let out a long sigh as he crossed his arms over his flat chest and leaned back against the couch. The ex-serial killer had to resist the urge to smile at the triumph of having finally made a valid point.

"Why didn't you just tell me that Mira didn't want to be a mother to my children?" Mohinder asked after a while.

"I tried to, but you wouldn't listen."

"Yes, you tried to tell me _after_ you attacked her," he said pointedly. "Why not come to me first?"

"Would you have listened let alone believed me?" Sylar asked, already knowing the answer.

The geneticist sighed again. "No," he half whispered. "But it doesn't matter now. Mira told me as much after we called off the wedding. She also told me that you tried to convince her that I was Manu's 'mother.' Fortunately she didn't believe you, but now she thinks I have sex with psychopaths... which unfortunately is true."

Sylar smirked as he got up from his seat perched on the edge of the table and went to sit beside Mohinder on the couch. "She wasn't right for you anyway. You need someone more-"

"Like you?" Mohinder cut in bitterly. "I don't know what to do anymore. Having you as a part time father didn't work and cutting you out of my life completely blew up in my face." He sighed, rubbing at his temples wearily. "So what now?"

"We could get married," Sylar supplied hopefully.

Mohinder scoffed. "Not happening."

"We could start dating."

"Nice try, but no."

"You could move back here."

There was a long, thoughtful pause and Sylar held his breath as he waited for what was sure to be a resounding "no." Yet Mohinder surprised him when he sighed and whispered, "Maybe."

"Maybe?" he repeated. He had never been so grateful to hear that one little word.

"Maybe," Mohinder said again just as Sylar began to lean over to kiss him, but the Indian stopped him with a harsh shove and a very firm "No," before adding "Our relationship aside, moving back to America would save me a lot of trouble. I'm always purchasing plane tickets to visit _someone_ and I'm _really_ getting quite sick of flying." He frowned, shifting in his seat. "I'd have to talk it over with my family though. And finding a decent place to live will be tricky."

"I could help you look," Sylar volunteered, because he knew that inviting Mohinder to move in with him was too much to ask for.

"Then there's finding a job," he went on, muttering to himself as if Sylar hadn't said anything. "A _real_ job. No more bloody cab driving. I have children to feed after all."

Sylar shrugged. "There's always the Company."

Mohinder turned to him then, a bitter scowl darkening his features. "That is _not_ an option."

The man held up his hands against Mohinder's defensive tone. "Just a suggestion," he told him. Still the idea that Mohinder and Manu may be living in the same country, the same state, the same _city_ as him was enough to make Sylar feel positively light headed. "You're really going to think about this, right?" Sylar asked, reaching out to grasp Mohinder's hand in his own. The Indian frowned at the gesture, but did not pull away. "I mean, this isn't going to be like the baby thing. You're actually going to consider it. Right?"

"I _did_ think about the 'baby thing,'" Mohinder snipped as he yanked his hand away. "I thought about it and realized it wasn't a good idea. And..." He sighed, running a tired hand over his face. "Yes! Yes I will _think_ about this. That's all for now."

Sylar smiled, practically beaming as he leaned in to give Mohinder's cheek a quick peck, one that was too quick for the geneticist to dodge. "Thank you," he whispered.

"We still have something else to discuss," Mohinder growled, his fingers tapping the blunt end of his bat dangerously. "A small matter of you breaking into my home in the middle of the night and taking my baby out of his bed."

"Oh. Right." Sylar paled, his stomach dropping to his feet as the Indian stood, gripping the handle in his right hand, the blade in the palm of his left. He gulped, his throat suddenly feeling impossibly tight and dry at the sight. "Do you know how to use that?"

"Well, I'm really more of a tennis man as of late," Mohinder confessed, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "And when I do play cricket, I'm a much better bowler than a batsman. Of course, this sort of thing does come naturally to me."

Sylar frowned, a confused look crossing his features as he tried to wrap his head around Mohinder's words. "What?" he asked, but as soon as the word left his lips, Mohinder swung the bat and his entire world exploded into white hot pain.

* * *

By eight forty-five, Mohinder's cricket bat had snapped clean in half and the geneticist had gotten his fill of beating Sylar senseless. The serial killer had lost count of how many times he had "died" and been brought back that morning, but even as he climbed the steps to Peter's apartment, his body - now back in one piece - still felt dull and sore from the previous activities of the morning.

"I don't think my jaw healed right," Sylar whined, opening and closing his mouth and listening carefully as a strange sound greeted his ears with each flex of his jaw muscles. "It's clicking."

Mohinder turned and threw him a bored look, not bothering to stop his climb up the steps. "Oh, perhaps you'd like me to adjust it for you?"

He flinched, unconsciously and too noticeably to be shrugged off, as the Indian reached towards him as if he sincerely were going to adjust his jaw. "No. I'll fix it later," Sylar mumbled.

The Indian huffed, picking up the pace as they approached the desired floor and Sylar couldn't help thinking how this was the third time he was going to Peter's apartment in the past twenty four hours. Not that he really had to come this time. It was quite obvious from Mohinder's attitude and pointed silence that the man didn't want him there, but Sylar wasn't one to let a single opportunity to be with his son slip by.

Mohinder was already at the door and knocking frantically by the time Sylar had reached the last step and he couldn't help smirking at the other man's behavior. This must have been the first time Mohinder and Manu had been so far apart and the Indian was not handling it well at all. Mohinder was every bit the fiercely protective parent Peter had described.

The door swung open and Peter stood in the threshold an infant in the crook of his arm, a bottle in hand, and a tired expression on his face. He brightened slightly at the sight of his Indian friend. "Mohinder," he began, but the geneticist was not in the mood for pleasantries.

"Where's Manu?" he asked automatically.

Peter's smile widened as he stepped aside, nudging the door open with his shoulder. "In the living room with June," he told his friend. "They're watching Sesame Street."

Mohinder was through the threshold and sprinting into the apartment before the last half of Peter's statement could be finished. Sylar frowned at Peter and then the baby - whose name he still couldn't remember - resting in his arm. It still grated his nerves that the empath now had two children and he still only had one. "Sesame Street? Really?" Sylar chided, crossing his arms over his chest. "You let your children watch that show?"

Peter frowned, tilting his head in confusion. "Uh, yeah. It's a cute show. And it's educational."

"It's creepy!" Sylar cut in. "Kids wandering the streets talking to puppet monsters? That's a sick, twisted show."

The younger man's frown only deepened in response to his words. "Your world view is sick and twisted," he sighed, stepping inside.

Sylar rolled his eyes as he walked past Peter and into the living room. He saw Mohinder crouched on the floor, cradling Manu tightly against his chest and raining kisses across the boy's round cheeks. "Oh my baby," Mohinder whispered between desperate kisses, his words sounding more like sobs as he continued to hold the child impossibly close. "My sweet, sweet baby! I'm never letting you out of my sight again. Not ever!"

"Father, it's okay," Manu told him. The toddler was obviously far too young to understand why his parent was so distressed, but the tears streaking down his cheeks were unmistakable, even to three year old eyes. "I'm not hurt."

"I know," he sniffed trying and failing to fight against his tears, but they continued to flow freely despite his best efforts. "I know dearest, it's just... I'm just so happy to see you."

The ex-serial killer felt his heart clench painfully at the sight. It almost felt as if the muscle had crumpled up and died in his chest. Watching Mohinder tearfully cradling their child was enough to actually make the man feel...

The unmistakable feeling of a small hand tugging at his pant leg was enough to draw Sylar's attention away from the emotional scene going on in front of him. He turned his gaze downward to the pigtailed toddler starring up at him with bright blue eyes. "Morning, Unky Gabe," June chirped, waving her juice cup at him.

He groaned as a few drops of orange juice splashed onto the front of his shirt. "Peter, come and get your oldest brat away from me," he grumbled.

Peter was at his side in an instant, cradling the infant in the crook of one arm and using his free hand to pluck June from the ground and tuck her under his other arm, holding her in a manner similar to the way someone would carry a football. "You have such a way with children," he muttered dryly. "Did you ever give Mohinder that sincere, heartfelt apology like I suggested?"

Sylar shrugged. "It never really came up."

The empath frowned, looking from Mohinder - still raining grateful kisses against Manu's round cheeks - to Sylar. "Well, I think you should probably do it now," he whispered. Peter adjusted June until she was balanced on his hip before walking into the living room. "Mohinder," he began gently, pulling the geneticist's attention away from the toddler still wrapped tightly in his arms. "I was just about to serve breakfast. You don't mind if I take Manu into the kitchen with the girls, do you?"

"Oh, of course," Mohinder answered, reluctantly releasing the boy from his grasp.

Sylar knew right away that Peter was giving him an opening by allowing to the two to have a moment of privacy, but the knowledge that Mohinder was most likely not ready to forgive and forget, despite the hour long pain session they had just gone through gave him pause. Yet as soon as the paramedic and the children were out of the room, Sylar took the opportunity and stepped over to Mohinder. The geneticist was still kneeling on the floor, his eyes lingering on the direction of the apartment Manu had disappeared in to. Sylar sighed as he crouched down beside him.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice quiet and awkward.

Mohinder turned to him as if he had just noticed Sylar's arrival. "Do you realize that that's the first time you've ever apologized to me for _anything_?" The Indian pointed out bitterly. He frowned, pushing himself off of the ground and staring down at Sylar. "And don't think that some half hearted 'sorry' is going to make up for what you did. Even before Manu was born I was worried that something like _this_ would happen. And then I walk into his bedroom and find that my biggest fear has finally come true. How do you think that made me feel? Not knowing where my own child was? Do you think if I took something as precious away from you a simple 'I'm sorry' would be enough to fix everything?"

He sighed, not bothering to get up from his humiliating position. "Well I did just let you break my neck and every other bone in my body repeatedly for the past hour. Doesn't that count for something?"

The Indian scoffed, rolling his eyes at the comment. "You've done a lot of horrible things to me Sylar, things that I don't have the energy to drudge up right now, but the fact that you're actually acknowledging your own wrong doings is a small step in the right direction."

Sylar allowed himself a small smile when Mohinder offered him his hand in assistance. He took it willingly, yet even when he had been pulled to his feet, Mohinder did not release him from his grasp. It was no tender touch as his pale fingers quickly turned red then purple from the pain.

"Other people's feelings matter, Sylar," Mohinder said tersely. "And I'm not just talking about myself either. Your actions affect people, they affect _Manu_, and if you want to be any kind of father you had better keep that in mind." His hand was alight with pain when Mohinder released the appendage from his crushing grasp. "I know you can be better than this, Sylar," Mohinder said, and the lack of a tingle in his being told the serial killer he was telling the truth, "so stop proving me wrong."

Sylar couldn't stop the broad grin from spreading across his features as the geneticist turned and walked away from him. Mohinder believed in him. That was a step in the right direction.


	9. A Night at the Movies

**Title:** A Night at the Movies  
**Pairing:** Mohinder/Sylar  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** Movie night  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Humor, implied Mpreg

"Alright Molly it's movie night, are you in or out?"

Molly hummed in mock thoughtfulness as she lounged on the couch, feet up and eyes trained on the blackberry that she was currently typing a message on. "Um, nah," she said finally. "Think I'll pass."

"Feet _off_ the couch," Mohinder chided, grabbing the girl's ankles and guiding them back towards the carpet. "And why don't you want to go to the movies with us?"

"Because you only ever go to see baby movies," she said bluntly, peeling her eyes off of her phone just so she could roll her eyes dramatically. "I don't feel like seeing another one of those dopey Disney cartoons with you guys."

"But this will be the third movie night in a row that you ll miss," Mohinder reminded her. "Besides, that's a bit of a harsh assessment since I suffered through your Miley Cyrus phase and took you to see _both_ of those Hannah Montana movies."

She cringed, ducking her head so that he couldn't see her eyes. "Well, uh, that was different," she said, but stopped there. Obviously she was having a hard time clarifying just how it was different.

Mohinder sighed as he watched Manu toddle out of his room carrying his shoes in hands and an eager smile lighting his face. He couldn't cancel movie night, not when Manu was so obviously looking forward to going, but he still felt awful about leaving Molly behind. He hated excluding her from family activities even if it was by her own choice, but her teenage attitude and already stubborn nature was making it difficult for the three of them to do anything remotely family related anymore.

Mohinder had to remind himself, however, that he needed to respect Molly's growing sense of independence. She couldn't stay his little girl forever.

"Fine, but this is the _last_ movie you're skipping," he said finally. "I suppose I'll drop you off at Grandmother's house then."

Molly peeled her eyes away from her phone to give him the full force of her indignant pout. "What? Are you kidding?" she huffed. "Come on! I don't need a babysitter! I'm old enough to look after myself."

"Well this is still family night, so one way or another you're going to spend the evening with family," Mohinder told her. "So you have a choice: go to the movies with Manu and me or spend the night at Grandmother's house."

She frowned, weighing her options carefully before letting out a long overly dramatic sigh. "Fine, I'll head over to Grandma Suresh's place."

"Alright then," he said, bending down to kiss her forehead. Mohinder had to admit that he was more than a bit disappointed that she still did not want to come with them. After all, he had started this movie night tradition for her, because Mohinder wasn't really one for going to the cinema and watch what could only be described as "popcorn flicks, " but Molly had enjoyed it and she had enjoyed going with him. That phase was over as well he supposed. "Go get ready."

Molly sighed, closing her phone and sliding it into her pocket just as Manu climbed the couch to sit beside her. "I wanna sit next to Molly today," he announced happily.

"Sorry booger breath," Molly said, patting her little brother on his curly head. Mohinder hated that nickname. "I'm heading to Grandma's. You and Dad can have fun at the movies without me."

Manu pouted, his lower lip quivering slightly as Molly slid off the sofa and made her way back to her bedroom. The sight alone was enough to make Mohinder want to drag Molly kicking and screaming to the theater with them - because Manu idolized his older sister and only ever wanted to spend time with her - but he had to stop himself. He remembered what it was like to be Molly's age, to feel that longing to be free and independent from the rest of the family. It was hard, but it was just something that he would have to deal with.

"I'm sure Molly will see a movie with us next time," Mohinder assured the toddler. He crouched down in front of the couch, inspecting Manu's little feet to make sure that his shoelaces were tied. They were. "But tonight will be just you and me. Won't that be fun?"

Manu nodded, his eyes trained on his own feet. "Can I bring Thirsty?"

Mohinder chuckled, kissing the toddler's round cheeks. "Of course you can."

* * *

They had just settled into their seats - a few rows back from the screen, but not too far that they couldn't see at all - when the house lights began to dim in preparation for the trailers. Manu squirmed in his chair, straightening himself out and tipping his head up in an attempt to stretch as far as possible. He turned toward Mohinder then. "Father, can I sit on your lap?"

Mohinder laughed, as he grabbed Manu under his armpits and lifted him on to his lap. "Of course you can." He knew that Manu would need a booster seat because he was still quite small (just as he had been at that age), but the geneticist also knew that he would only have a few more years when he could hold Manu like this without the child feeling embarrassed.

His mind drifted back to Molly then. It was hard to imagine that just a few years ago, she was that sweet little girl who would pull out a box of crayons and draw pictures just for him, pictures that he would proudly display on their refrigerator for all to see. Now Molly's drawings were just as guarded as her smile and getting her to open up to him was like pulling teeth.

He wondered how long it would be before Manu was the same way. How many more years did he have before he could no longer kiss his cheeks or hold his little hand without receiving an earful about his "embarrassing" behavior?

Mohinder's mind was so muddled that he didn't even notice the lights dimming further, signaling the end of the trailers and the start of the film itself. The chair next to them squeaked, announcing the arrival of a late comer to the show.

"Looks like I got here just in time." The geneticist had to bite his tongue to keep from gasping in shock at the sound of the too familiar voice. Although he had to admit nothing _really_ surprised him anymore, especially when it came to Sylar.

"Sylar," Mohinder hissed wearily, turning to stare at the other man in the gloom of the theater. He blended in with the darkened room fairly well with his all black attire, but his pale skin acted as a startling reflection for what little light there was in the area. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see the movie," he whispered casually. His smirk widened as he shifted in his seat, his grip on his popcorn bag tightening. "I bet the prince saves the princess in the end."

"Hi Papa," Manu greeted, squirming in Mohinder's lap so that he could inch himself closer to Sylar. "Can I have some popcorn?"

"No way!" The theater erupted into a wave of "Shhh!" and indignant whispers, their patients obviously have worn thin with their persistent conversation. "This is Papa's popcorn, Angel," Sylar whispered, now mindful of his surroundings. "You can go get your own."

Manu pouted in disappointment, his grip tightening as he hugged his stuffed tiger closer to his chest.

"Sylar, you have a large tub of popcorn, two boxes of candy, and a soda. Give him some popcorn."

The ex-serial killer gave a long sigh as he tipped the popcorn bag towards Manu, allowing the toddler to reach in and grab a few kernels. "Thank you, Papa," Manu said. "Can Thirsty have some?"

Sylar looked ready to refuse, but Mohinder cut in before he could. "We talked about this, Manu: tiger's eat tiger food, not people food." He still shuddered at the memory of all the times he had caught Manu sharing his juice boxes and snacks with his favorite toy. Mohinder still had to marvel at the tiger's ability to retain its color and texture after all the washing it had gone through. "Now why don't we all just watch the movie?"

"Okay," Manu agreed. He nibbled on his bits of popcorn before leaning back against Mohinder's chest and focusing his attention on the screen.

Mohinder smiled, his arms tightening his grip on Manu just as he felt Sylar's own arm wrap around his shoulders. "Stop it," he hissed, causing the other man to quickly remove his appendage.

* * *

"So what did you think of the movie, Manu?" Sylar asked, carrying Manu out of the theater. "Did you like it?"

Half way through the movie, Manu had decided he wanted to switch laps and crawled into Sylar's arms. Fortunately (although remarkably) Sylar had finished off all of his snacks by that time and his arms were free to cradle the toddler. Mohinder hated being jealous of Sylar - because he was _Sylar_ for God's sakes! - but whenever the man was around he drew in all of Manu's attention. It was as if Mohinder suddenly had to compete for his own child's affection.

"Yes," Manu said, busying himself by playing with the little strings of yarn that made up Thirsty's whiskers.

"What was your favorite part of the movie?" Mohinder asked, running a hand over the toddler's hair.

"When they fought the dragon," he told him, an eager smile spreading across his face.

"That was fun," Sylar agreed, bouncing the boy gently in his arms. "But you know, not all dragons are bad. Sometimes they're just sad, misunderstood creatures in need of a little compassion and understanding."

Mohinder frowned distastefully at Sylar's words, not at all liking where this "lesson in tolerance" was going. "Most times dragons are just dragons," he cautioned. "They're mean greedy creatures who terrorize villages and kingdoms and hurt people for their own selfish gain."

He watched as Sylar's face twisted into a bitter scowl, his grip on Manu tightening possessively. "Well even the meanest dragon can grow a conscious and realize his own mistakes. That's why he tries to do good things and be a better person."

"How can that dragon be a better person if he's never once even attempted to apologize for attacking so many villages?"

"Well, maybe the dragon realized that actions speak louder than words, especially when it comes to stubborn princesses who won't move on and let go of the past."

Mohinder rolled his eyes as he grabbed Manu and gently pried him out of Sylar's arms. "Yes, well this princess is officially sick of this analogy," he huffed. "And we should be getting home. Say goodnight to Papa, Manu."

"Wait a minute," Sylar said quickly, reaching out to grab Mohinder's arm in his firm yet desperate hand. His features softened as he looked from Manu to Mohinder, begging them to stay just a little while longer. "You don't have to go yet. It's still early."

"Its nine thirty and we've got a bed time to keep," Mohinder said. "Besides, I still have to pick up Molly from my mother's house and I'm sure that there's somewhere _you_ have to be."

"Nope," Sylar said quickly. "It's my day off."

"I thought you didn't get time off."

He gave a casual, indifferent shrugged. "Well, I may have started a small fire in the break room in order to be sent home without pay, but in my defense somebody ate the last doughnut."

"After you ate the first eleven, I'm sure," Mohinder frowned because he doubted that Sylar was joking.

"Father? Can we have ice cream?" Manu asked, tugging on Mohinder's sleeve to gain his attention.

"Darling, you just ate popcorn," Mohinder chided. "Besides, it's nearly bedtime. You'll get a tummy ache if you eat too much before bed."

"Oh, a little ice cream won't hurt," Sylar argued as he reached out to finger one of Manu's loose curls. "Besides, I'm in the mood for something sweet."

Mohinder felt his ears perk up in disbelief at Sylar's comment. "You mean to tell me that the two boxes of candy and large soda you had in addition to that family sized bucket of popcorn weren't good enough for you?" he gaped.

"Meh," Sylar shrugged, waving his hand dismissively. "One more snack won't hurt." He flashed him a disarming smile - at least, the smile would have been disarming if it had come from anyone else - as he grabbed Mohinder's elbow and tugged on it playfully. "Come on. It'll be my treat."

"You mean you're actually going to pay for something?" He laughed. "Wow. I better call and check the temperature in Hell."

"Very funny," Sylar droned. "Now show me the way to the nearest ice cream parlor."

"Down that way," Mohinder said, pointing towards the western end of the movie theater. "It's not too far."

"I wanna walk!" Manu announced, squirming in his grasp as he struggled to break free. Mohinder had no other choice but to relent, yet that didn't stop the disappointed frown from spreading across his features when Manu walked over to Sylar and grasped his hand. "I want chocolate ice cream," he said, pulling Sylar in the direction of the shop.

"Would you like me to carry Thirsty so _we_ can hold hands?" Mohinder asked, wiggling his hand in front of the toddler to emphasize his point.

Manu looked at Mohinder's hand, then at Sylar's, then turned to look at the tiger that he still clutched against his chest. "I wanna hold Thirsty," he decided finally. He tightened his grip on both the doll and Sylar's pale hand before taking it upon himself to lead the trek to the ice cream parlor.

Mohinder noticed the brief, sympathetic glance Sylar shot his way and it embarrassed him to no end. He has to fight off the blush creeping into his cheeks as he shoves his hands into his pockets and fixes his gaze on the ground. He desperately wanted to turn around and go back to his car, but instead decides to push aside his discomfort for just a little while longer. After all, in a few short months they would be leaving India and moving back to New York. Sylar would become an even more inescapable presence in his life and Mohinder will simply have to get used to the idea of having Sylar around whenever he pleased.

When they reached their destination, Mohinder decided to hang back as Sylar ordered. The ex-serial killer offered to buy him a cone, but Mohinder refused. His stomach suddenly felt very tight and knotted and the thought of eating anything seemed less than appealing.

He was only half listening as Manu and Sylar talked - about ice cream and the movie and other things that the toddler found absolutely fascinating - barely registering anything that was being said. Mohinder thought about Molly and how just a few years ago she looked at him as if he were the center of the world, had called him her hero, and how now she didn't even want to be seen with him in public. Just two hours ago, Manu had eagerly asked to sit on his lap and now his attention was solely focused on Sylar. He hated being envious of the other man, because it seemed foolish when one considered the fact that Sylar only saw their child a few days out of the year when got to be with him all the time, but ... but... but he couldn't find a way to finish that sentence without feeling petty.

"Hey." He blinked at the feeling of Sylar nudging his shoulder with his knuckles as if giving his arm a slow punch. "You seem really far off tonight. Something wrong?"

Mohinder shook his head slowly. "No."

"Lie detector," Sylar said, tapping his head for emphasis.

Mohinder frowned. He always forgot about that ability, even though it was among the more annoying powers that Sylar possessed. "You're as bad as a mind reader sometimes."

"Even without this ability I can read you like a book," Sylar pointed out. "Do you need to talk?"

He supposed that he did, but Sylar wasn't exactly the person he wanted to talk to about this sort of problem. He would have rather discussed this with his mother or Peter, not someone like Sylar. Yet saying as much would either result in a colossal hissy fit or Sylar continuing to pry and badger him until Mohinder gave in.

"Not here," Mohinder said simply. "Not in front of him."

Sylar nodded, understand dawning on him as he turned to the toddler who was still focused on eating the rest of his snack. There was ice cream all over his cheeks and nose and neither one of them could resist the urge to chuckle at the sight. "Okay Manu," Sylar began, grabbing a napkin and wiping at the melted streaks of chocolate decorating his mouth. "Time to go back to the car."

"Do you have to go now, Papa?" Manu asked, the sad gleam shining in his wide brown eyes a clear indication that he did not want to see Sylar leave just yet.

"Soon, Angel," he told him, grabbing the boy's sticky hands and giving them the same treatment. Mohinder could see that some of the chocolate had already gotten on to Thirsty. It looked like he'd have to give the tiger another emergency washing before he put Manu to bed. "First, I've gotta talk with Daddy for a minute."

Manu nodded in understanding as he placed his now chocolate free hand in Sylar's palm. "I'm done with my ice cream," Manu announced, showing off the half eaten waffle cone with only a few drops of chocolate ice cream clinging to its sides.

Sylar frowned, plucking the cone out of his hand and looking at it curiously. "You don't want the rest?" he asked incredulously.

"Sylar, don't make him eat more than he wants to," Mohinder chided. The last thing he wanted was Manu getting sick or having nightmares from eating too many sweets. "Just throw it away."

"Wasteful," Sylar snipped as he dropped the rest off in a nearby trash bin.

Mohinder rolled his eyes, before walking in the direction of his car. He didn't bother walking briskly, because frankly he wasn't in any hurry to talk. What's more, he didn't want to outpace Manu. It would be easier to simply pick him up and carry the toddler to the car, but Manu had inherited his stubbornness. If the child wanted to walk then he would walk.

"Papa, when we move will we live near you?"

He didn't have to look at Sylar to know that the man was staring at him, sending him a pointed look as a smirk pulled on the corners of his lips. "Maybe."

Mohinder cringed. He had yet to find an apartment that met their needs, yet Sylar had been quite eagerly sending him daily e-mails about newly available apartments in his borough, particularly the ones in his building. It didn't take a genius to see what Sylar was getting at, but it did take a great deal of patience to keep himself from lashing out at him.

"Will we see each other every day?"

Again, Sylar looked to him. "Maybe."

"Can we get a doggy?"

"No, dearest, we can't get a dog," Mohinder cut in quickly. He knew that Sylar would promise Manu the moon if he could and the last thing he wanted was for the other man to get his hopes up. Mohinder could practically hear Manu begin to sulk in response just as they reached the car. "Alright, Manu. Get in," he instructed as he opened the back passenger door.

The toddler's pout only deepened as he looked at the open door and waiting car seat, before turning back to Sylar. "Kiss goodnight?" he asked, raising his arms up hopefully.

Sylar laughed, scooping Manu into his arms and placing a quick kiss to his nose. "Goodnight Angel," Sylar crooned, before handing him over to Mohinder.

"I'm going to put in a CD for you to listen to while I talk to Papa," Mohinder announced as he carefully strapped Manu into the chair. "Would you like that?"

"Okay," Manu said softly, his attention now fixed on picking at the chocolate caught in Thirsty's matted fur. "Thirsty needs a bath."

"Don't worry about Thirsty," Mohinder said, giving Manu's cheek a light kiss. "I'll give him a quick wash when we get home and then he'll be all ready for bed."

He closed the door, before opening the front passenger's door and turning on the radio. One of the classical music CDs he had purchased for Manu was already in and instantly began to play. He sighed as he straightened himself up and closed the door, cutting off the music and ensuring that Manu would not be able to hear a word they said.

"I like watching you parent," Sylar said suddenly, a dopey smile spreading across his face. "You're really cute with him. Parenting seems to just come naturally to you."

Mohinder frowned, resting his hip against the door. It wasn't natural at all. It had been awkward and hard when he had taken Molly in, like relearning how to speak his own language, and when Manu was born things were even more difficult, as if he suddenly found himself going backwards once again. His experience with children was like reading a book from the end on and then going back to the middle, before finally starting at the beginning. He knew what was coming, he knew how things ended, but the here and now was somehow still full of twists and turns.

His scowl deepened as he crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself defensively. "I doubt it comes natural to anyone," he muttered.

Sylar's expression softened, and even now it was still a bit odd to see him with gentle, concerned features. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Is this about me? Are you really that upset that I interrupted your movie night?"

He gave him a bitter look. It was a bit about Sylar, but not entirely. As annoying as it was to have Sylar pop in whenever he pleased, it was more annoying to have time slip away from his so easily. "Not everything is about _you_," he said, rolling his eyes at Sylar's slight frown. "No. It's not that. I've just... I've been thinking a lot... about Molly and Manu and how fast it all goes."

"What goes?" Sylar asked, cocking his head to the side curiously.

"Childhood," he said. "One minute their little and think the world of you, then the next they want nothing to do with you." Mohinder sighed, shaking his head. He sounded so stupid and sappy to his own ears, but even that thought didn't stop the morose feelings from gnawing away at his heart. "I can't talk to Molly anymore. She hates me. She hates everyone and everything, but she hates me most of all. In ten years, Manu will be that age and he'll hate me, too."

"Manu won't hate you," Sylar said instantly. "How could he ever hate you? You're an amazing father. You're patient and doting and everything that a kid like him needs. I can't see him not loving you."

_I can,_ Mohinder thought. _I know he will. I know he'll hate me because of all the stupid things I've done._ Mohinder knew he had made a lot of foolish choices in his life, the biggest one being allowing Sylar to meet their son. It was a mistake that he regretted every single day and he knew that one day Manu would learn the truth about them, about how he was born and who Sylar really was, and he would undoubtedly hate Mohinder for allowing a serial killer to be any part of his life.

"It's an inevitable phase that all children go through," Mohinder said. "I just... I know it's selfish, but I'm really going to miss the way he looks at me, as if I'm the center of his world. I miss being that to Molly."

He stiffened on reflex when Sylar reached out and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Molly still loves you, too," he assured him. "I may not know her as well as Manu, but... but you'll always be her hero. This whole 'I don't want to be with anyone' thing... it'll pass. It always passes.

"And Manu's a smart kid. He'll see through all those hormones and know that you'll always be there for him."

Despite himself, Mohinder actually felt a small smile pulling at his lips. That is, until Sylar leaned forward to kiss him. He turned his head quickly so that Sylar's lips only landed on his cheek. Mohinder made a mental note to be more careful not to give Sylar anymore openings. He knew that if he were to allow him one quick peck on the cheek the ex-serial killer would go skipping back to New York convinced that they were "in love again. "

It was then that he became very mindful of Manu's presence. He couldn't recall Manu ever seeing anyone kiss him - Sylar had kissed him once on Christmas, but Manu had been too fixed on his presents to notice, and he always asked Mira to kiss him when Manu was not around - and didn't know how the boy would react to such a sight. Luckily Manu had fallen asleep, his head lulled to the side, resting heavily on his shoulder as he held Thirsty limply in his lap like a kitten he'd fallen asleep stroking.

"Don't do that in front of the baby," Mohinder whispered, despite the fact that he knew no one could hear him.

Sylar backed away, his expression slightly unreadable as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "You know, if this is really upsetting you, we could always have another baby." He smiled, hopeful and suggestive all at once. "It'll help you feel better."

Mohinder had to laugh at that offer. Even after all this time Sylar was still trying to convince him that getting pregnant again was a worthy idea.

He couldn't have another baby. Not after the way his first pregnancy had been. He'd never admit it to anyone, especially not Sylar, but there were some times that he missed being pregnant, times where he'd place his hand on his stomach and remember the way Manu had kicked and pushed inside of him. Yet those memories were always ruined when he looked at the ugly brown scar across his stomach or remembered the intense nightmares that had caused him to bite into his arm to keep from screaming out at night.

No. He would not get pregnant again if he could help it. The memories were simply too painful.

"It wouldn't be a good idea," Mohinder said. "I'd feel like I was replacing Manu. Besides, even if I did have a baby, what then? I'd still go through the same thing sooner or later. Should I have another child every time I feel lonely?" He shook his head. "I can't do that. I'm too old to be chasing babies around."

"You're not old." The words were spoken forcefully, bitterly, because Sylar hated the reminder that Mohinder was still aging while time stood still for him. He had asked Sylar what he would do when Manu caught up him in age and the serial killer had reasoned he'd use his shape shifting ability to mimic the aging process before that could happen. Mohinder hadn't bothered to push further.

"I'm getting old," he shrugged. "I'm nearly forty. Can't help it."

Sylar frowned, hunching his shoulders as he stuck his fists deeper into his pockets. Mohinder knew without asking that there was a dark thought brewing in his head. "I should get going," he said reluctantly. "You have to get him to bed."

Mohinder nodded. "Thank you for listening."

Sylar merely grunted in response, sulking bitterly as he stepped away from the car and marched off into the darkened parking lot.


End file.
